


sweet like love (soft like pain)

by postingpebbles



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Car Accidents, Hospitals, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Injury Recovery, M/M, Misunderstandings, Perceived Rivalry, Romance, Secret Relationship, Skating, but when in reality they're in love, life & love, they're so in love that my heart hurts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-03-01 06:18:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13288803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/postingpebbles/pseuds/postingpebbles
Summary: Loving Yuuri was a choice that Viktor never regretted making. His smile, his laughter, the way his lips felt against his own—nothing could make him happier than having Yuuri in his arms.But when the entire world has no idea that figure skating rivals Yuuri Katsuki and Viktor Nikiforov are in a relationship, Viktor can't do anything at all when Yuuri gets into an accident and is rushed to the hospital the day after he proposes in a hotel room in Nagano.





	1. where the fields are painted gold

**Author's Note:**

> Dedicated to all my darlings on Discord who screamed with me about this prompt, and to Cary who helped me figure out some of the finer details ♥♥
> 
> So here begins another fic!! I didn't,,, exactly _mean_ to write this, but the aforementioned people are the instigators of everything here and um, here I am. Writing. Even tho I've got two unpublished WIPs already. Oops.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!
> 
> \--
> 
> (Title from "Evergreen" by Honeywater)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title: "bloom" by the paper kites

Viktor Nikiforov was hopelessly in love.

In the shadows of his hotel room, Viktor pulled Yuuri into a bruising kiss, their breaths heavy and ragged and full of desperation. Yuuri’s hands gripped his shoulders as Viktor gripped his waist, and Viktor _drowned_ in his touch, pulling him closer and closer and _closer._ Because to him, Yuuri could never be close enough.

“I missed you,” Viktor gasped into Yuuri’s neck, and Yuuri _arched._ “It’s been so long—”

“I missed you too,” Yuuri whispered against his lips, before leaning in to kiss him again.

Their relationship was a series of stolen moments. There wasn’t enough _time_ to spend together, only able to see each other in person at competitions, yet all Viktor wanted to do was scream from the tallest building how deep his love for Yuuri Katsuki went. He wanted to go outside holding Yuuri’s hand in his. He wanted him to meet Makkachin. He just wanted _Yuuri._

Later, they were lying together on the singular bed, cleaned up and their bare legs crossing under the warm covers. The room was dark, with the only light coming from what the city of Nagano had to give. Soft rays danced through Yuuri’s messy hair, across his smooth shoulder, and illuminated the gold flecks in his eyes. 

Unable to resist, Viktor carded his hands through Yuuri’s soft hair, his fingers brushing against his forehead. Yuuri leaned into the touch, closing his eyes and sighing softly. His breath ghosted over Viktor’s skin, warm and sweet. Viktor would've been content talking with Yuuri the entire night, not wanting to miss a single moment with him, but exhaustion filled his body and he knew Yuuri was tired as well. 

“The free skate's tomorrow. Let’s sleep?” Viktor asked, fully knowing that Yuuri had a fully functional hotel room of his own. But there was nothing else that could help Viktor sleep better than having Yuuri in his arms. "We don't want to fall asleep on the ice."

Yet Yuuri merely nodded, burrowing deeper under the blanket with a small laugh. “Okay. Love you,” he said.

“And I you,” Viktor murmured, planting a kiss on Yuuri’s crown. “Sweet dreams.”

Viktor, in general, didn't fall asleep very easily, but it was somehow a little easier with Yuuri next to him. It was the feeling of the slight dip in the bed, his soft breaths, and the warmth from where their limbs were so tangled up in each other that Viktor didn't know where he ended and Yuuri began. He opened an eye lazily, to see if Yuuri was sleeping already, but Yuuri was gazing up at him, wonder written across his features.

"Thinking about something?" Viktor asked, fully opening his eyes.

Yuuri's flush was barely visible in the dark, but it was adorable anyway. “You,” he admitted. "And me." Before Viktor could say anything else, though, Yuuri continued, tripping over his words with his haste to get them out, “I was thinking—um, when I win gold—we’ll get married.”

Viktor fingered the ring looped through the thin chain, spilling from Yuuri’s neck. “You know you winning gold isn’t a condition for our wedding, _zvezda moya,_ ” he said, smiling. “I already said yes.”

Yuuri shook his head. Even the dim lighting, his eyes sparkled. “No, I’ll propose to you again—during the medal ceremony. I’ll show the whole world how much I love you.”

Viktor’s breath caught in his throat. “Yuuri, are you—”

“I am,” he affirmed, a small smile on his lips. “I—I think I’m ready. I want them to know. But don’t you _dare_ go down without a fight, Viktor Nikiforov,” he added, softly booping him on the nose with a finger. “I’m winning on my own merit.”

“I’ll skate my best tomorrow,” Viktor promised, clasping Yuuri’s hands in his own. “You’re brilliant and talented and beautiful on _and_ off the ice. The world is _blind_ if they don’t see how amazing you are.”

Yuuri quieted then, and Viktor’s smile faded, sensing the change in mood. He’d gotten better at reading Yuuri through the years, but there were still times Viktor had to coax Yuuri into telling him what was wrong rather than leave him to bottle it up.

“Hey, talk to me,” he said, shifting under the covers. “What's on your mind?”

Yuuri was biting his lip, the skin caught between his teeth as he avoided Viktor's gaze. It hurt when Yuuri shut himself away, but Viktor knew that he just needed to wait for him, for when he was ready to speak. 

“Am I—are you—” Yuuri swallowed, then continued, “Are you _really_ okay with us going public? I don’t want to pressure you into anything, and I know you said it was nicer to just focus on _us_ without worrying about how our relationship would affect our careers—”

“Yuuri. _Yuuri,_ ” Viktor said, voice soft. “Listen to me. There’s nothing else I’d love better than to tell everyone how much I love you. I just didn’t want to put you through anything unnecessary by being connected further to my name. I . . . I worry. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Yuuri sighed, tracing patterns on Viktor’s skin. “I know.”

It was a story blown wildly out of proportion by the skating world. Yuuri Katsuki, twenty years old and on his third round on the senior circuit, seemingly came out of nowhere. He shot through the qualifiers, and came only a point under Viktor Nikiforov in the Grand Prix Final, snatching silver from Christophe Giacometti. It was Viktor’s second consecutive win, foreshadowing his future success.

Then came the infamous image.

It was a picture of Yuuri, standing on the second-tallest block, glaring up at Viktor. It was perceived as an impudent sort of glance, full of anger and resentment, and it became something that the public speculated on for _weeks_ after. It was the type of story that tabloids lusted after, looking for drama to tell.

At first, Viktor wasn’t sure what to think about it, really. Yakov told him to ignore it, but Yuuri Katsuki was unavoidable and a name that continued to pop up within his notifications. After the Grand Prix Final, Viktor read that he swept the competition during Japanese Nationals a few weeks later while Viktor did the same for Russia.

After that, Viktor had hunted down every skating video of Yuuri Katsuki that he could find on YouTube, and was stunned to see that there were so many programs that bore a striking similarity to his own skating style. There was no way Yuuri could hate him while skating something so full of love.

As he went to bed that night, scrolling through Twitter, an Instagram notification popped up from a _katsuki_y_. Viktor rarely responded to DMs, but there was no one else that this could be. When he opened it though, all he could do was look at it with surprise.

 _fjdkslfjlsajfa,_ it read.

Viktor was, understandably, confused, but it was soon followed up with an _OH MY GOSH I’M SO SORRY I DIDN’T MEAN TO SEND THAT_ and a _PLEASE IGNORE ME THAT WAS MY ROOMMATE_

So he cautiously thumbed in, _Then what did you mean to send?_

A few seconds passed as Viktor watched the three dots pop in and out of existence. Then—

 _an apology_  

It was cleared up within a few texts. Yuuri had glasses, so it looked like he was glaring at Viktor when he really wasn’t. He didn't wear contacts because he was a little wary of having his hands so close to his eyes. Viktor could imagine Yuuri looking completely flustered as he was typing, and he found himself ridiculously charmed by the concept. And their conversation, surprisingly, didn’t stop there. Viktor kept DMing Yuuri weeks after, and Yuuri would readily answer. It became habit to tell Yuuri good morning and good night, and after about a month of them texting back and forth Yuuri offered his phone number. It was definitely easier that way, and Viktor quickly took advantage of that and FaceTimed Yuuri as much as he could.

Viktor remembered Yuuri being surprised to see him once the connection hit the first time, and asked why.

“I still can’t believe I’m talking to someone I've looked up to my entire _life,_ ” Yuuri admitted before blushing pink. The camera quality wasn’t quite able to capture it as well as seeing it in person could, but Viktor—Viktor was absolutely smitten. His voice, his smile, his laugh—Yuuri was absolutely amazing.

He was excited to see him face-to-face again at Worlds, where there would be no screen and thousands of kilometers separating them.

They were in the same practice group, and Yuuri didn’t even notice Viktor coming in until Viktor skated by him, offering a slight smirk. Yuuri’s eyes narrowed as he tried to figure out who he was, but then gave him a small grin of his own when he recognized him. Viktor couldn’t figure out why cameras seemed to be crowding the stadium at first, but then he remembered the frenzy that had erupted during the Grand Prix—they were hunting for any new information regarding the budding Katsuki-Nikiforov “rivalry.”

Per the usual, Viktor refused to make any statements regarding his personal life to the press when they asked him what he thought of Yuuri Katsuki. He only offered a clipped “He’s definitely someone to watch out for” when pressed for more, then returned to the ice to continue practice.

Viktor would admit that his purpose was a little selfish as well. He wanted to keep Yuuri to himself for a little while longer.

That was three years ago, and he and Yuuri had fallen in love within that time. They’d decided to keep their relationship quiet—not necessarily secret, but subtle enough that the media wouldn’t latch onto it every time they stepped on the ice. It was Viktor’s decision. He _knew_ how people behaved to celebrity partners, and he and Yuuri were somewhat well-known in the skating world—he didn’t want Yuuri to get hurt because of him, and Yuuri didn't want Viktor to suffer from any of his own mistakes.

It made every moment more precious, though, because Viktor knew that the time they spent together was theirs and theirs alone. They didn’t owe the world anything.

Viktor had passed out last night with Yuuri in his arms, so the lack of Yuuri there was what woke him the next morning. He made a small, needy sound, opening his arms to persuade him to come back into the warmth of the bed. In the back of his mind, Viktor recognized that he was still _very_ sleepy, but all he wanted to do now was pull Yuuri to his chest and cuddle for the rest of the morning.

Yuuri turned around when he heard him, and smiled. “Ah, sorry, Vitya, I was going to wake you up when I finished getting ready,” he said, looking like an _angel_ with the early sunrise glowing behind him like a halo. “Go back to sleep, I won’t be leaving for a while.”

Viktor pouted, propping his head on his hand. “And miss spending precious time with my Yuuri? You’re sadly mistaken.”

Yuuri laughed, slipping back into his rumpled clothes. He disappeared into the bathroom for a few minutes, and when he came out again his hair was damp and combed and his glasses were perched on his nose.

“Good luck with your free skate,” Yuuri breathed, bending down and brushing his lips against Viktor’s. The faint scent of mint reached his nose. “You’ll definitely be looking up at me on the podium tonight—I promise.”

Viktor grinned. “I look forward to it.”

All too soon, Yuuri was put-together again. The sun was now fully over the horizon, spilling over the mountains and reflecting off the glass buildings, and he needed to go before anyone else could see.

“See you later,” he said, and with one last soft, sweet smile over his shoulder, the door clicked shut.

 

* * *

 

 _Google Search:_ nhk trophy 2015

> _News_

 _ >>Trending Headlines _ _  
_ _About 2,820 results (0.26 seconds)_  

2015 NHK Trophy: The Battle Between Rivals Katsuki and Nikiforov  
_Nov 27, 2015_

Katsuki in First After Stunning Short Program?  
_20 hours ago_

What Could be Viktor Nikiforov’s Fifth Year of Gold  
_15 hours ago_

 

* * *

 

For the first time in a while, Viktor wasn’t the last person to skate on the ice. 

It was an interesting experience, and, honestly, one he wouldn’t mind going through again if it was Yuuri who was to follow.

The first strains of Stammi Vicino began to pour through the loudspeakers, soft and beautiful, and Viktor lifted his gaze to the ceiling.

He had commissioned this piece from one of his favorite composers, asking for something that sang about love. Not love in the traditional sense, though, but it was a yearning for something that he could never have. He could never truly have Yuuri, not in the way he wanted, and so he wanted to express that feeling through his skating.

 _Can you see?_ he asked the crowd as he landed his first quad. _Can you see how much I love him?_

As he spun, the rink dissolved into a blur of color, and Viktor could only infuse his performance with how much he longed to have a relationship with Yuuri that he could proudly show. He wasn’t ashamed of what he had with him—no, not at all—but there was something terrifying about the unknown.

Yet at the same time, it was exhilarating. The chain around his neck was sticky with sweat, plastered against his skin, and all Viktor could think about was when it would finally be around Yuuri’s ring finger, shining for all to see. He imagined a gold ring glinting on his own hand, with a matching medal hung around Yuuri’s neck.

 _Partiamo insieme, ora sono pronto,_ the voice around him sang. _Let’s leave together. I'm ready now._

They’d leave together. They’d walk out of this rink, engaged for _real._

Viktor wrapped his arms around himself, eyes closed and facing skyward, pretending as always he was holding Yuuri to his chest. His chest heaved from the exertion, the rink erupted with cheers, and Viktor relaxed from his stance to wave cheerfully to the audience. It was another perfect performance—expected from him by now.

He scooped up a poodle plushie as he skated to the side of the rink, accepting his skate guards from Yakov. Viktor snapped them on and made his way over to the Kiss and Cry, waiting for his scores to come in. He expected them to be high—Viktor hadn’t scored below 200 in years—but _this_ was something he wasn’t prepared for. Viktor’s free skate hadn’t broken his previous record.

He’d _shattered_ it, shooting his name to the top of the scoreboard.

Viktor’s hands flew up to his mouth, and instinctively he searched for Yuuri to see his reaction. But Yuuri was already by the rinkside, his stance loose and relaxed as he listened to last-minute instructions from his coach. He’d already shed his warm-up jersey, looking stunning in a blue and white ensemble, and shot a teasing smile at Viktor when he turned around to skate to the center of the ice.

His heart fluttered, but he composed himself as he allowed Yakov to lead him out of the Kiss and Cry and to the competitors’ stands. Yuuri’s name was called, first in Japanese, then in English.

Yuuri was known for skating softer programs, allowing his musicality to bleed into his performance, and his free skate this year was no exception. _Je te veux_ was the name of his music, and he looked absolutely beautiful as he began an intricate step sequence across the ice. Yuuri’s arms were spread, chasing after an invisible partner to dance his waltz with. There was a smile on his face, bliss in every component, and all Viktor wanted to do was pepper kisses all over his cheeks.

There was no doubt that Yuuri’s score would be unbelievably high once he finished.

Viktor knew Yuuri’s program nearly as well as he did his own, and knew that there was going to be a quad toe loop next. But the entrance Yuuri was moving into didn’t seem like the standard one for a toe—

He shot to his feet as Yuuri slammed down into the ice and got up again with the grace that only a seasoned skater could have after a fall. Yakov tugged him back to his seat with a hissed _“Vitya, get down,”_ but Viktor could only keep his eyes on Yuuri as he began a sit spin, his arm raised elegantly in the air. He hadn’t landed the jump, not even _close,_ but he’d gotten the right number of rotations and—Viktor had to bite back a proud smile.

It was a quad flip.

There was no doubt who Yuuri’s homage was for, and Viktor was going to kiss him _so much_ tonight.

He watched Yuuri make his way to the edge of the rink, his sheepish smile broadcast on the jumbotron above as Celestino seemed to be scolding him for the impromptu flip. But he folded Yuuri into a hug and handed him his skate guards as they walked to the Kiss and Cry together.

A few tense moments passed, Yuuri’s hands clenched into a poodle plush of his own as he waited for the results. Viktor’s knee was bouncing anxiously, and he pressed down on it to hide his nerves.

But Yuuri’s free skate was only enough to get him to silver, only a _fraction_ away from gold.

Viktor had to push down a twinge of disappointment, knowing that Yuuri was definitely feeling worse than he was. Though the flip served its purpose in upping his base score, Yuuri’s fall was what cost him gold. He watched Yuuri’s face flicker with an unreadable emotion on the screen, and Viktor’s heart ached for him. He knew how much Yuuri wanted to win tonight.

At the medal ceremony, Viktor automatically pressed his lips to the cool metal, all-too-aware of Yuuri standing to his right with silver hanging around his neck. Their performances during the NHK Trophy assured their places into the final at Barcelona, but Viktor could feel how dissatisfied Yuuri was with the way he skated tonight.

Viktor knocked on Yuuri’s hotel room later, freshly showered and dressed in casual clothes. The free dance was tomorrow on Yuuri’s birthday, but Yuuri wouldn’t be staying for it. He was catching a flight tonight to Fukuoka Airport, leaving early to celebrate with his family.

Yuuri let him in almost as soon as he finished knocking, and swept him into a tight hug after closing the door. He was already in his brown coat, a thick, woolly scarf wrapped around his neck, and a beanie covering his thick hair.

“I’ll do better at the final,” Yuuri promised, his voice muffled by Viktor’s shoulder. “I’ll win gold for you there. I’ll do _everything_ I can to make sure we can get married.”

Viktor kissed Yuuri’s right hand, exactly where his ring would eventually rest. “Oh, darling. I’d wait forever for you.”

The rocked together in the entryway, neither of them willing to be the first to pull away. So Viktor said, his arms still looped around Yuuri’s trim waist, “You surprised me out there, _solnyshko._ I didn’t know you were training a quad flip. You—you looked _stunning_ out there, and I’m _so_ proud of you.”

Yuuri’s look of disbelief nearly broke Viktor’s heart—how did he not realize how brilliant he was?—but then a watery smile began to form on his lips.

“Thank you, Vitya,” he said. Viktor had done his best to build Yuuri’s self-confidence from the day they fell into each other’s lives, and wouldn’t stop now. “I wasn’t good— _prepared—_ enough today,” Yuuri corrected himself, blinking back tears, “but I’ll be training hard to beat you next time. I promise.”

“I know you will,” Viktor said, thumbing away the wetness. Then he reached into his pocket and placed a small velvet bag in Yuuri’s hand. “And this is for you. Happy birthday, love.”

It was a poodle pawprint pendant, made from gold to match the chain around his neck. The back was engraved with their initials and a snowflake to match the rings, and when Yuuri slid it through the necklace, it made a small _clink_ as it hit the band.

“I don’t even want to _know_ how much this cost,” Yuuri said, laughing as he tackled Viktor into another hug. “Thank you so much. I love it. I love _you._ ”

Viktor couldn't help but laugh as well. It was utterly ridiculous how head-over-heels he was for this man, and it was absolutely wonderful. “I love you too. Safe flight, have fun with your family, and I'll see you in Barcelona.”

They walked to the elevators together, sneaking another quick kiss before anyone could see. Yuuri pressed the down button while Viktor pressed the other, and then he was gone. Viktor rode the elevator back up to his room, humming happily under his breath. 

Two weeks apart. It would be hard, but Viktor could probably make it if they called at least once—no,  _twice_ a day. And texted regularly with pictures. Because he  _knew_ that Yuuri's own poodle was adorable based on the folder called  _Vicchan_ on his phone. 

 _Goodnight ♥_ he texted a few hours later, before falling asleep with a smile.

He couldn't wait until the day he woke up and saw Yuuri's face next to him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something sweet n fluffy until Things begin to Happen... 
> 
> Please let me know what you thought, and thank you so much for reading!!
> 
> I'm on [tumblr](https://postingpebbles.tumblr.com) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/postingpebbles) if you wanna say hi :)


	2. tell me i get to wake up to that smile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title: "i wouldn't mind" by he is we

It had been twelve hours since Yuuri left the hotel, and nine since Viktor sent him that _Goodnight ♥_ text.

He couldn’t help but feel a little worried.

It was strange, Viktor thought as he brushed his teeth. Yuuri _definitely_ should’ve responded by now, especially since they were in the same timezone. The flight to Fukuoka International Airport shouldn’t have taken more than two hours. There was probably a good reason why Yuuri wasn’t texting or calling back—he was probably still sleeping, or still catching up with his family.

Any minute now, he’d hear something.

But the _Goodnight ♥_ he’d sent last night simply sat there, looking up at him innocently. Something uneasy began to settle over his heart. Despite everything that suggested otherwise, Yuuri was still human. And after losing an event he’d had his heart set on winning, there was no doubt he was frustrated after the results.

Viktor frowned, moving back to the bed and leaning against the headboard.

Did that frustration bother Yuuri enough to ignore him though? It didn’t make sense. It _didn’t._ Yuuri wasn’t _like_ that. He would never— _had_ never—

Knowing that he’d drive himself insane with this senseless worry, Viktor thumbed open the photo app. He had an album simply titled золотце, and it was full to bursting with every single picture he’d taken of Yuuri. Yuuri would definitely be more than embarrassed if he ever found out, and Viktor knew it was risky if someone went into his phone and found them, but Viktor wanted to be selfish for once in his life.

Yuuri was the first person he’d ever wanted to hold onto, and Viktor knew that it was love. There was nothing else that this feeling—soft and delicate and warm—could be.

When he opened the album, Viktor let a soft huff leave his mouth. He and Yuuri usually took a picture together every time they met up, and the night before the free skate was no exception. Viktor called every new photo his favorite, but _this_ one definitely was.

It was a simple selfie of the two of them, like they always were, but this one seemed a little _more._ Viktor didn’t know what it was—maybe it was the way Yuuri’s eyes sparkled as he smiled, or the way their bodies were curled together, or how his affection for Yuuri only deepened with each passing day.

There was something wonderful about being in love.

When Viktor glanced at the time, he found that there was still some time until the free dance at noon, and so he switched to Twitter, hoping to kill some time before then. And just like the album kept lovingly in his phone, Viktor was immediately bombarded with countless notifications and pictures of _Yuuri_ all over his timeline.

Something was wrong.

Viktor didn’t follow Yuuri on Twitter. He didn’t follow Yuuri on _any_ social media. It was too much of a liability—it was much too _easy_ for someone to snoop through his following list and bring something out into the open that they weren’t ready to share with the world yet.

_Yuuri Katsuki, 23, involved in a two-car—_

Fear was an uncommon feeling for Viktor. Of course, he’d feared many things over his lifetime—falling from jumps, losing his touch as a skater as he aged, of what would happen to him when he was finally finished with his career—but this?

He’d never known true fear until now.

Viktor itched to text Yuuri again, just once more to ask what was wrong and make sure that everything was a hoax, that he was _fine_.

But then he read the next few tweets, and that small shard of hope vanished.

 

> **Christophe Giacometti** ✓ @christophe_gc • 1h  
>  Sending out my thoughts to Yuuri and his family—here’s to hoping he gets better soon #hopeforyuuri
> 
> **Sara Crispino** ✓ @sara_crispino • 1h  
>  My heart goes out to all who are affected by Yuuri’s accident. He’s a great skater with a strong spirit, so I have faith that he’ll be back on the ice before we know it!! #hopeforyuuri
> 
> **ISU Figure Skating** ✓ @ISU_Figure • 3h  
>  Yuuri Katsuki (JPN) will be replaced by Cao Bin (CHN) as a Grand Prix finalist after Katsuki’s withdrawal  
>  [image: a photo of Yuuri and Cao, side by side on the podium at a previous qualifier. Yuuri is holding gold, while Cao wears silver.]
> 
> **ESPN** ✓ @espn • 3h  
>  Coach Celestino Cialdini says skater Katsuki will no longer be participating in Grand Prix Final  
>  [linked image: Celestino, frowning and looking haggard and weary as he faces the camera. There are deep circles under his eyes, as if he has not slept since the night before.]
> 
> **CNN** ✓ @CNN • 10h  
>  Grand Prix Finalist Yuuri Katsuki critically injured in car accident cnn.it/3KDLhd

 

_Car accident._

_Yuuri._

Viktor felt sick.

#hopeforyuuri was trending, with so many people sending out well-wishes to him, but Viktor’s heart was splintering in his chest. This couldn’t be real. None of it could—accidents like these were things that happened to _other_ people, far away from them, but not Yuuri.

 _Never_ Yuuri.

Viktor’s fingers shook as he typed in Yuuri’s name within the Twitter searchbar hoping to find any other news about him— _anything—_ and bile began to rise in his throat when he saw a video embedded in the first tweet.

 ** _[KATSUKI YUURI ACCIDENT]_** proclaimed the title, and, with dread pooling in his stomach, Viktor tapped on it.

The video was taken at night, but the bright searchlights surrounding the scene negated that completely. Two cars were on both sides of the street, horribly mangled with one of them flipped over, and a worried voice was talking offscreen in worried Japanese. Other people were surrounding the area, civilians and authorities alike, and Viktor wanted to scream.

Then the video zoomed in on the paramedics forcing open the doors of the overturned taxi. The top was crushed, pieces of broken glass glittering on the asphalt, and the car was lightly steaming in what was probably a bitterly cold evening. A man was helped out of the driver side door by the rescue team, looking battered and dazed, but able to walk with assistance to the ambulance.

But the passenger side was what the camera—and Viktor—was mainly focused on.

Two paramedics were easing open the door, and carefully extracting the person inside. They were placed onto a stretcher, hurried away from the accident, and seeing the first glimpse of Yuuri’s bloodied face and broken body made Viktor drop his phone in his lap like it scalded him.

“No, no, _no,_ ” he whispered hysterically, pressing his hands to his mouth.

There was no one else that could be.

The whirring of a helicopter soon joined the voices speaking offscreen, and, belatedly, Viktor realized that the only reason that this video was so close was because the highway had been blocked off and there was nowhere that these cars could go.

The rest of the video played out like a movie, keeping Viktor’s attention for ten horrifying minutes, and it was only after it ended that he realized he was crying. Tears were dripping down his face and nose, splashing against the screen of his phone.

Soft, choked noises left his throat, barely recognizable as his own, and Viktor couldn’t _breathe_. This couldn’t be real. This _couldn’t be real._

The video’s viewcount only rose as the seconds ticked by, despite the fact that it was tweeted a little less than half a day ago. How many people had seen this already?

_4k. 4.5k._

Too many. Too many to count.

     

> _1/28/15, 10:46 PM_
> 
> 1k Retweets 3.2k Likes
> 
> **fangirl @ gp series 2k15** @skaterfangirl34 • 11h  
>  Replying to @marshmallowww  
>  Oh God what’s going to happen to Yuuri now? I really wanted to watch him skate… #hopeforyuuri
> 
> **#hopeforyuuri** @katsuuuukiiiii • 11h  
>  Replying to @marshmallowww  
>  All we can do is pray that Yuuri will heal quickly!! Sending best wishes to @katsuki_y #hopeforyuuri
> 
> **vitya’s wife** @nikiwife • 10h  
>  Replying to @marshmallowww  
>  lol at least he’s out of the picture so that viktor can win his fifth grand prix medal easily

 

No. This wasn’t what Viktor had imagined the weeks preceding the Grand Prix at all.

He’d expected a few daily texts exchanged in that time, maybe a Skype or FaceTime session if he was lucky, but _God._ Never this.

Never anything in which Yuuri could _ever_ be hurt.

Viktor stumbled out of the bed, abandoning his phone amidst the covers, but he only made it a few feet before he fell to his knees in the middle of the room. A broken, shuddery breath escaped him, and sobs began to wrack his frame. His hands shook as he gripped the ring that hung around his neck, the warmed metal biting into his skin.

(In the back of his mind, he knew that the ring looped through the chain was too small for him. It was made for slenderer, more delicate hands than his.)

Viktor didn’t know how long he sat there, body numb and heart aching, but a sharp knock on the door pulled him back to reality. He slowly lifted his head to face the small hallway, wiping his tears, and flinched when he heard Yakov’s enraged shout from the other side.

“ _Vitya!”_ he roared, pounding on the door again. _“The free dance starts in an hour and you haven’t even come out of this room! I don’t care if you’ve already made it to the final, but for God’s sake support your rinkmates!”_ And not even a minute passed before Yakov stormed in, wielding the extra key cards he had for each of his skaters, his face red with fury.

“Vitya, I don’t know _why_ —”

“Yakov,” Viktor choked out, his hands white-knuckled from the grip he had around the ring. Distantly, he noted that the thin chain had snapped at some point and was spilling through his fingers like water, but all he could do was tremble as he looked up at his coach. “I’m—” He tried to force a smile, the skin around his mouth stretching painfully, but then he folded in on himself as he scrubbed the rest of his tears away. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I meant to come down sooner.”

Yakov’s face softened slightly, his omnipresent glare like stone rather than steel, and Viktor knew what he was about to ask even before he said it. Viktor hadn’t had one of _those days_ in a long time. His mental health had improved slowly once Yuuri had come into his life, and he’d felt more vivid and free and _alive._ And though Viktor had admittedly slipped every now and then, those were few and far in between.

But this crushing grief was incomparable to anything he’d ever felt before.

“Vitya?” Yakov prompted, soft and careful, but Viktor shook his head violently. There were no words for something like this.

Then a hand, solid and warm and full of care, descended upon his head. A lump formed in his throat and Viktor  _collapsed_ ,letting his tears soak into Yakov’s dress pants. He wept for Yuuri, a high-pitched keen clawing out of his throat and releasing the grief and confusion that he couldn’t properly express through any language he knew.

Yakov’s hand continued to awkwardly comb through his hair as Viktor's cries quieted to faint sniffles, offering his own degree of stilted solace even if he didn’t fully understand what went on in his head. It was one of the things Viktor loved most about his coach—he knew when to push, and he knew when to support.

This was a time that Viktor needed his coach’s support more than ever.

“Come down when you’re ready,” Yakov muttered, removing his hand from Viktor’s head after a few minutes had passed. “If anyone’s looking for you, I’ll say that you’ve overslept after winning yesterday.”

Viktor nodded, head still bowed in the same position. “Thank you. I—I’ll be there later.”

When Yakov left, Viktor couldn’t help but pull up the photo album he had on his phone filled with pictures of simply Yuuri. Tears welled anew in his eyes and in that moment, Viktor decided.

He knew what he needed to do.

 

* * *

  

> **Trending**
> 
> 1 #hopeforyuuri
> 
> 2 #nhktrophy2015

 

* * *

 

As promised, Viktor took a taxi to Big Hat, the venue where the qualifier was taking place.

The trip was quiet, the only sound the pop-rock Japanese music playing from the radio. Viktor was grateful that the driver spoke English since his Japanese was barely passable for casual conversation. Even with the broken language barrier, Viktor barely said anything the entire ride. Though he responded when spoken to, the news about Yuuri was still a heavy weight to bear and made him less open to conversation.

And by the time the taxi pulled up to the building, Viktor knew that he wouldn’t be going in.

He’d already made up his mind.

The driver glanced back at him through the rearview mirror, his expression questioning when Viktor made no move to get out. Then Viktor smiled, hoping he didn’t appear _too_ delusional and be refused any additional service.

“Actually,” he said, “could you take me to Aizawa Hospital? I’ll pay extra.”

As the driver’s face scrunched with confusion, Viktor realized that it was the first time that he’d initiated a conversation during this trip besides his first request to be driven to Big Hat, and it was only for another destination. He must’ve come across as quite rude.

“Aizawa Hospital. Please,” he added, probably sounding a little desperate.

The driver thought it over, then nodded. “Well, if you have enough money, I can take you.”

“Thank you,” Viktor told him, relieved. He gave the man a wad of bills, definitely more than what the trip cost, but Yuuri was priceless.

The hour after that passed quickly.

Viktor had shut off his phone after sending a quick text to Yakov that he was running a few errands and wouldn’t be returning on the same plane tomorrow morning, _so_ _would you mind getting my stuff from my room please?_

Yakov’s irate reply had come in the form of an immediate phone call while Viktor was drafting an email to Elena, his dogsitter, but he’d swiftly pressed the red _decline_ button before sending the request to look after Makkachin for a little while longer.

He discovered that the taxi driver’s daughter was a huge fan of figure skating, and began to talk more with him about their shared topic. Viktor ignored the twinge of pain he felt when he heard that the she was a huge fan of Katsuki Yuuri.

“We were watching it on the TV last night,” he said, skillfully weaving through the afternoon traffic. “He was so close to winning. My daughter was very disappointed that he didn’t.”

“It’s a shame,” Viktor agreed. “I was cheering for Yuuri too.”

As he continued talking, the driver didn’t seem to recognize Viktor as a skater, nor did he make any mention of Yuuri’s accident. What he _did_ talk about was his daughter and her love for skating, and Viktor was glad for the distraction. It hurt a little less to talk about Yuuri’s accomplishments and how brilliant he was, rather than sitting alone with his thoughts and the image of his fiancé’s bruised and battered body appearing unwanted in his mind.

“I hope that your daughter gets to see Yuuri skate in person one day,” Viktor said, smiling slightly. “He’d be very happy to know that there are people who look up to him.”

But the next thing the driver said surprised him. “You’re very mindful of his name,” he commented suddenly, glancing back at Viktor. “Do you know him?”

Viktor let out a startled laugh, shaken. “N-No, I’m just a fan,” he said, still unsettled. “I’ve followed his career for some time now. We’ve, um, never spoken before.”

“Ah. Well, I’m sorry for assuming.”

The rest of the ride was spent in silence. The driver turned the radio volume up again, filling the car with bright music, and Viktor looked out the window. His gaze fell on nearby cars more often than not, and he flinched when they came too close. It was ridiculous, his reaction, now that there was nothing else to distract him; Viktor wasn’t even the one who had been in the accident.

The taxi pulled up to the doors of the hospital half an hour later, and the driver met his eyes again. “Nikiforov-san,” he said, startling Viktor as he reached for the door handle, “I hope you know what you are doing by visiting the hospital where Katsuki-senshu is. You don’t seem to have a bad relationship with him, so maybe all of the news sources I’ve read are wrong—”

“They are,” Viktor whispered, the words slipping out his mouth on their own accord. In the back of his mind, he knew that he probably shouldn’t be saying this, but it was liberating to tell someone—even if he was a stranger—the truth. He wondered how much lighter he would feel once everyone knew that those harsh lines drawn between Yuuri and himself were softer and full of love.

And much to his surprise, the man smiled warmly. “Did I not mention that my daughter isn’t the only figure skating fan in my home? I hope visiting Katsuki-senshu goes well. Please tell him that my family is still offering our support.”

“I will,” Viktor promised, suddenly teary-eyed. “And thank you.”

After one last goodbye, Viktor emerged from the car’s warmth and entered the chilliness of the afternoon. Then he pulled his coat closer around his frame and rushed into the hospital lobby, a gust of wind trailing close behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Stuff is beginning to Happen and wow it's happening real quick
> 
> Anyway, hi and thank you so much for reading!! I think we're going to be looking at a bi-weekly update schedule, but of course I'm going to try to post sooner if I can :)
> 
> Please let me know what you thought!! ♡♡
> 
> [tumblr](https://postingpebbles.tumblr.com) // [twitter](https://twitter.com/postingpebbles)


	3. the privilege of being yours

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title: "turning page" by sleeping at last

_“Yuuri, have you ever thought about children?”_

_“Children?” he repeated, mirth shining in his eyes. “What brought this on?”_

_Viktor smiled, sweeping a lock of Yuuri’s dark hair behind his ears. Yuuri claimed he was due for a haircut, but Viktor liked when it was long enough to play with. “Just asking,” he said casually, taking note of the fond smile unfurling like a flower across Yuuri’s features._

_“You have to propose first if you’re talking about children!” he scolded, the effect ruined by his laughter._

_“Marry me then,” Viktor couldn’t help but say, seeing Yuuri’s head snap up at the words. “Just say the words and I’ll be yours.”_

_“I’ve wanted to marry you since I was twelve,” Yuuri joked, his words a little wobbly now, and Viktor’s heart fluttered from the soft look. Then Yuuri gently cupped his face, expression much more tender. “Next competition we have,” he said, his thumb brushing across Viktor’s cheek. “We’ll have rings ready for each other, okay?”_

_Viktor pressed his forehead to Yuuri’s. “Okay.”_

 

* * *

  

 

> **stickingrocks** @stickingrocks • 1h  
>  uhhhhh there’s been a weird lack of @v_nikiforov at the free dance does anyone know where he went? #nhktrophy  
>  [tagged image: Mila Babicheva sitting in the stands, cheering for Anya Vasilieva and her partner. Georgi Popovich is crying, and there’s a distinct space in the group.]
> 
> _11/29/15, 12:07 PM_
> 
> 12 Retweets 34 Likes
> 
> **yoyoplisetsky** @yoyoplisetsky • 56m  
>  Replying to @stickingrocks and @v_nikiforov  
>  yakov said he overslept but imo he deserves it (and probably some blankets too) after such a great program
> 
> **katsukifatale** @katsukifatale • 40m  
>  Replying to @stickingrocks @v_nikiforov  
>  Imagine if Viktor went to visit Yuuri in the hospital tho how wild would that be
> 
> **stickingrocks** @stickingrocks • 39m  
>  Replying to @katsukifatale  
>  OH MY GOD
> 
> **vitya’s wife** @nikiwife • 5s  
>  Replying to @stickingrocks @v_nikiforov @katsukifatale  
>  are u kidding me they hate each other that’s the stupidest thing ive ever heard why’d viktor ever want to see katsuki willingly

 

* * *

 

The woman at the reception desk startled when Viktor burst through the doors, her eyes widening as she took in his bedraggled appearance. But before she could say anything, he gasped, “Katsuki Yuuri. Can I see him? _Please._ ”

She blinked up at him, looking suspicious. “Katsuki Yuuri?” she asked, glancing to her monitor. “Are you family? A friend?”

“I—um—” Viktor floundered, looking for an answer. He should’ve _known_ that it wasn’t going to be this easy to see Yuuri, especially because of how high-profile Yuuri was. It was obvious they weren’t related, and they weren’t _just_ friends. “I’m—”

“If you have no direct connection with Katsuki-senshu,” the woman said, looking stern, “I’m going to have to ask you to leave. I’ve already turned away dozens of fans today and I cannot have anyone disturbing him as he heals.”

 _Fan?_ The word struck him in the heart, burrowing deeper than any barb could. “No wait, I’m not just a fan, so _please_ let me see him,” he begged. “I just need to make sure he’s okay—”

“Sir, if you don’t leave, I’m going to have to ask security to escort you out,” she repeated, her hand resting lightly on a landline. “I’ve already done it twice. Don’t think I won’t do it again.”

Viktor’s foot tapped on the floor agitatedly. The terror and anxiety curling in Viktor’s stomach only built with every passing second, and he couldn’t wait any longer. “But—!”

“ _Sir,_ ” she snapped, much more firmly this time. “I can’t have you risking the health of Katsuki-senshu, or anyone else in this hospital. _Please leave._ ”

Then his composure broke.

 _“He’s my fiancé!”_ Viktor finally burst, hands slamming against the table as he laid out his final trump card. It was the one thing that he and Yuuri had guarded since the beginning of their relationship, and Viktor had been weak enough to let it slip out not just once, but twice. _Twice_ , when he had promised Yuuri that he’d keep their relationship close to his heart.

A hand suddenly clamped around his shoulder, and Viktor flinched horribly, already on edge. He was released quickly, but his heart was still pounding against his chest.

“C-Coach Cialdini,” Viktor said stiffly.

“What are you doing here, Nikiforov?” Celestino Cialdini asked, sounding completely _done_ , and looking like he hadn’t slept in the past half day. “This time is for close friends and family _only,_ and last I checked you were neither of those things.”

“He claims that he is Katsuki Yuuri’s fiancé,” the receptionist commented, seemingly familiar with Celestino already. “Is this true?”

Viktor’s mind spun uselessly, unable to form a coherent thought from that mess. There were too many questions he couldn’t answer, too much that Celestino didn’t understand—

“I just thought you’d have more decency than this to leave Yuuri alone for once after something like this,” Celestino muttered, turning away. “Go back to the competition, Viktor. God knows what Yakov’s going to do once he sees you again.”

But when Celestino started to leave, Viktor shouted, “Wait!”

He knew he looked like a madman—hair mussed and clothes rumpled from travel, and eyes alight with desperation—but the only thing running through Viktor’s head was that he _couldn’t_ let Celestino leave before giving him a chance to explain.

Viktor’s hand plunged into his jacket pocket and pulled out the ring and broken chain, holding them out in front of him. They glinted under the fluorescent lights. “I gave this to him two nights ago when we proposed,” Viktor said, his arm trembling. “It fits _his_ finger, not mine. Its pair— _my_ ring—it’s on a chain around his neck. We wanted a piece of each other to carry when—”

He choked on the next words, unable to continue. Viktor’s arm dropped to his side, his fist clenched around the ring. Viktor had cried more than he did in the past few hours, and he couldn’t let himself cry now when he was trying so hard to be strong.

“So _please._ Let me see my fiancé.”

Celestino was still standing there, his expression unreadable as he stared at Viktor. Viktor had never really spoken with Celestino before, knowing that his presence wouldn’t be entirely welcome around Yuuri because of their apparent rivalry, but according to Yuuri he was kind, if not a little misguided about understanding what Yuuri needed.

Yet that kindness was nowhere to be found in Celestino’s stony gaze, and they’d managed to gather a small crowd because of how loud Viktor had been. An uncomfortable warmth began to build under his collar from the added scrutiny.

“Can we—can we take this outside?” Viktor asked quietly. “I can explain everything there.”

Celestino considered him for a moment, then nodded. “Give me a few minutes.”

So Viktor stepped back into the chill, away from the curious looks of everyone inside, and away from the slight judging stares. He sank down on the wooden bench and curled forward until his forehead touched his knees. He wrapped his arms around his legs. Exhaustion had worked its way into every bone, every muscle, expanding within Viktor’s body until he was just a sack of tired human. It felt just as cold— _colder_ —than a rink, but unlike on the ice, he didn’t feel invincible in this moment.

He felt . . . he felt weak. Hopeless.

The automatic doors whirred as they opened, but Viktor kept his head buried between his knees. Choosing to explain everything out here was probably one of the more stubborn and reckless decisions he’d made, but it was worth it when the cold was able to sap the anxious, jittery warmth away from his limbs. Viktor wasn’t even properly dressed for long-term exposure to this kind of weather, but he was _Russian_ and could handle temperatures like these—

“Viktor,” Celestino called.

Viktor automatically lifted his head when he heard his name, but drew back slightly when he saw Celestino was standing in front of him. And strangely enough, there were two styrofoam cups in his hands, steaming in the winter air.

His hands suddenly felt very cold.

“I thought about what you said,” Celestino said, holding out one of the cups. “It’s tea,” he added.

Viktor accepted the tea, startled. “Thank you. But why are you doing this?”

“Let’s say I believe you,” Celestino said, getting to the point. “But why keep something like this secret? Everyone and their mother knows how much of a fan Yuuri was of you before this _rivalry_ blew up in the media—why not refute that?”

“We wanted to keep our relationship away from the public,” Viktor replied, almost instantly. His fingers drummed against the styrofoam. “I didn’t want to cause Yuuri any unnecessary stress by having people ask about something they had no right to pry into. And—” He hesitated, before continuing, “It was nice to be selfish for once. To keep something so wonderful to myself and out of the spotlight.”

Yuuri had known that reason, of course, but he didn’t know the full extent of how much Viktor wanted to zip Yuuri into his coat and keep in his arms for the rest of time. It was almost terrifying how deep his love ran for him—having the realization that he would do _anything_ to make sure Yuuri would never feel pain.

And yet, Yuuri was somewhere in this hospital, critically injured and alone. Viktor pressed his lips together, breathing deeply through his nose. He wouldn’t cry again. He _wouldn’t._

“I’ll take you to the waiting room,” Celestino said abruptly, and Viktor scrambled to his feet in order to follow. “I believe you,” he said as they walked back into the building. The smell of antiseptic was stronger now when compared to the air outside. “It’s utterly ridiculous, but—” Celestino sighed heavily. “It seems like some ridiculous thing that Yuuri would do.”

“Thank you,” Viktor said, but Celestino interrupted him.

“Don’t thank me yet. Yuuri’s family is on their way, but I don’t know how they will react when they hear your story. I suggest telling them what you told me,” he said, eyeing him.

Viktor nodded. “I will,” he promised. “They deserve to know.”

So here he was, sitting in the waiting room and nursing the cup of tea. Celestino hadn’t come in with him, saying that he needed to talk to a nurse about Yuuri’s condition, and the worry that had been kept at bay was beginning to return. Because despite Celestino’s reluctant belief in Viktor’s explanation, he still didn’t trust him enough to tell him about everything that had happened to Yuuri.

The only other people in the room with him were an older-looking Japanese couple. They had already been there when Viktor shuffled in, and he and the man only shared a passing glance before Viktor went to sit down. The couple’s hands were clasped together, and it was only then that Viktor saw the slight glint of their wedding bands.

He choked down the rest of his tea, the styrofoam squeaking when he gripped it a little too tightly.

The sound of the TV was the only thing filling the silence besides the couple’s quiet murmurs, and Viktor could feel their eyes on him every once in a while. When he accidentally met the woman’s gaze, she smiled at him and Viktor was struck with a sudden sense of familiarity.

That smile—he swore he’d seen it somewhere before.

Then the name “Katsuki Yuuri” sounding from the TV made them both jump. They all looked up at the screen, and a still image of Yuuri mid-spin during his short program appeared next to the reporter. The language sailed right over Viktor’s head, but even then he understood everything completely.

But when the Twitter video that he saw this morning began to play, he had to look away, refusing to see that again. The couple was completely focused on the screen though, their faces painted with the exact same horror he felt when he first watched it. Tears were slowly dripping down the woman’s cheeks, and though her husband was squeezing her hand, it was clear that he was just as affected by the report as she was.

Then it hit him, the realization brutally clear—

They were Yuuri’s _parents._

The screen suddenly became dark, and Viktor found himself standing in front of the TV, his finger pressed lightly to the power button. He looked back at Yuuri’s mother and father, their expressions frozen in shock, and Viktor’s face burned with embarrassment.

“Sorry, um—”

But before he could escape, Yuuri’s mother spoke.

“You are Viktor Nikiforov, yes?” she asked softly.

Viktor hesitated. But when he looked at the two of them, seeing no judgment in their eyes, everything suddenly became easier. “I am.”

Her expression softened. “Come sit with us,” Hiroko instructed, gesturing to the seat in front of her.

Having no choice, Viktor sat.

Though he was already twenty-six years old, he felt much younger under Hiroko and Toshiya Katsuki’s watch. Yuuri had a sister too, if he remembered correctly, but she didn't seem to be here. Toshiya was observing him quietly, a strange contrast to the stories that Yuuri had told him about his father. Viktor was expecting a loud and boisterous personality, but the man in front of him was somber and weighed down with grief. Then Viktor tore his eyes away from Toshiya, and looked at Hiroko instead as she quietly wiped her eyes.

“I’m here to see Yuuri,” he told her without being prompted. His voice was surprisingly steady even in his rush to explain everything, but even so, his last words were a little choked despite his attempt to keep his feelings in control.

Hiroko hummed, considering. “I have heard that you do not like my Yuuri,” she said, examining Viktor. “But you still want to see him?”

“I do,” Viktor confirmed. “More than anything.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the ring again to show them, wistfulness growing in his heart. “I—I love him. I want to marry him. And he wants to marry me.”

It was the second time Viktor needed to explain his reasons for seeing Yuuri, but strangely enough, it was easier now. Maybe it was _because_ it was the second time around, or maybe it was because Hiroko and Toshiya were patient and didn’t dismiss him immediately.

“You really care about our boy,” Toshiya said, speaking up for the first time.

Viktor dipped his head, his hair flopping in front of his eyes. “So much,” he confessed, rolling the ring between his fingers.

Then Hiroko suddenly smiled, and Viktor immediately knew who Yuuri inherited his smile from.

“It’s a beautiful ring. And . . . Yuuri would be very happy to see you too.”

Viktor’s breath hitched, and the tears he didn't know were brimming in his eyes spilled over. He didn’t even know that he was waiting to hear those words. He didn’t even know how anxious he was about how their relationship would be perceived until Yuuri’s parents gave their approval.

Viktor knew then that Yuuri received so much more from his parents than just their appearances—because he also inherited their kind hearts, full of so much love.

He tried to thank them for giving him a chance to explain, for their support—but Hiroko reached out and folded Viktor into her arms before he could say anything. Her embrace was warm and soft, gentle and kind, and Viktor felt so, _so_ loved _._

“How could you believe me so easily?” he whispered, his voice ragged, but Hiroko only held him closer.

“Yuuri has spent too much time loving you to _ever_ fill himself with hate,” she told him, and Viktor only cried harder. “And it is clear that you love him too—you cannot pretend to love someone as deeply as you love our son.”

Viktor wasn’t sure what to expect when he had to tell Yuuri’s parents about everything that had happened between them, but it definitely wasn’t this. He didn’t expect to be welcomed with open arms, to be given so much love, to be hugged as warmly as a son would be. There was so much trust, fragile and strong and delicate and lasting, all at the same time. And Viktor promised himself he’d _never_ break that trust that they’d given him.

When Hiroko let go of him, brushing away the lingering tears from his cheeks, she repeated, “Please come with us to see Yuuri.”

He nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Of course I will.”

Then a nurse stepped inside a few seconds later, making all three of them look up. “Katsuki Yuuri?” she asked, looking at them.

Toshiya patted Viktor’s leg. “That’s us, Vicchan,” he murmured, and Viktor glanced up at the unfamiliar name. “Let’s go.”

 

* * *

 

#### NHK Trophy’s Exhibition Flop

After Yuuri Katsuki’s accident and Viktor Nikiforov’s impromptu disappearance, the organizers for the 2015 NHK Trophy scrambled to find replacements for the exhibition program tonight. Michele Crispino, bronze medallist for men’s singles, is still set to skate, and it seems that the fourth and fifth place winners will be skating as well.

However, controversy exploded when the possibility that the sixth place winner could be left out was made known . . .

_Read more _

—

[Page 1 of 7]

 **← 1** 2 3 … 6 7 →

—

 **teekettle** Yikes I feel terrible for the last place skater. I mean normally they don’t even get to skate in exhibitions but being the only men’s skater in the qualifier being left out…

 **kiaronna** I hope Yuuri’s doing okay though, because last I heard the accident was bad enough that they had to perform surgery

 **wing--it** oh god can he still skate after that? he’d be devastated if he couldn’t—i know how much beating viktor means to him

 **borntomakelifeandlove** I’m just hoping that Viktor comes back soon and that he’s doing well :(

 

* * *

 

Viktor’s mind was elsewhere.

Nervous energy thrummed in his veins as he followed Yuuri’s nurse and the Katsukis through the hospital to Yuuri’s room, and it only coalesced into a bundle of pure anxiety in the pit of his stomach as the minutes passed. The nurse had just confirmed that Yuuri had been released from emergency surgery, and explained that she wasn’t able to tell them everything here, but Viktor wasn’t even sure that he _wanted_ to hear everything that had happened. He didn’t think he’d be able to hold himself together if he knew the full extent.

“Katsuki-san still needs plenty of rest, so please try to be as quiet as you can when you see him,” the nurse cautioned as they stopped in front of the door. “You can stay here for as long as you’d like, but remember that we will be checking on him periodically. We have rooms available in another wing if you do not have any place to stay.”

“Thank you,” Toshiya murmured, but Viktor remained silent.

Then Hiroko placed a hand on the back of his shoulder, not quite tall enough to reach it. She offered him a reassuring smile, but instead of feeling better, Viktor only felt worse. They were Yuuri’s parents, and were undoubtedly feeling just as worse, if not more than, he was.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, but Hiroko only shook her head.

“You're allowed to feel worry,” she said, her eyes kind. “But don't forget to hope as well.”

At that, the hashtag # _hopeforyuuri_ flashed at the forefront of Viktor’s mind. There were so many people wishing for Yuuri’s swift recovery, and most were people who had never even met him. Where did that leave Viktor, who loved him more than life itself?

So matter how Yuuri was behind that door, Viktor would never stop hoping. He’d never give up faith that Yuuri would heal.

Viktor could feel Yuuri’s ring in his pocket, and a new resolve bloomed within him. He would hope until Yuuri was well enough to dance in his arms again. He would hope until Yuuri was well enough to come to St. Petersburg with him, and sleep in Viktor’s own bed instead of a hotel’s. He could even give him that family Yuuri had wanted for _years._

Then Viktor knew that he would finally announce to the entire world that Yuuri Katsuki was his, promising himself he’d _never_ hide again.

Are you ready to see him?” the nurse asked, looking at them.

And Viktor said—

“ _Yes_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha apparently i can't keep an update schedule to save my life but i'll still be writing as much as i can when i have free time! hope you enjoyed this, and pls let me know what you thought ♡
> 
> and [this](https://postingpebbles.tumblr.com/post/170733250671/help) is where most of the usernames came from, and will continue coming from until the fic's end :)
> 
>  
> 
> ~~ALSO WHO'S HECKIN HYPE ABOUT THESE OLYMPICS BC I SURE AM~~
> 
>  
> 
> [tumblr](https://postingpebbles.tumblr.com/) // [twitter](https://twitter.com/postingpebbles)


	4. hold you in the depths of your despair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title: "in the name of love" by martin garrix & bebe rexha

Every person had a moment in their life when they realized how fragile human lives could be. It was sickening, visceral, horrifying—and here, the feeling washed over Viktor and drowned him with its intensity.

He’d considered himself lucky enough to have never brushed death, to never have experienced anything worse than broken bones from jumps gone wrong, but _God,_ those were nothing compared to this. He’d never known such terror until he glimpsed Yuuri’s broken body lying on the hospital bed, countless machines connected to his body just to help him _breathe._

“Kihara-sensei will be by soon to tell you the extent of Katsuki-san’s injuries,” the nurse told them, clutching her clipboard in one hand and the doorknob in the other. “Please have a seat until then.”

There were only two chairs in the room, so Viktor elected to stand, offering them to Yuuri’s parents instead. But they refused, choosing to stand by Yuuri’s bedside.

Viktor thought he’d be inconsolable when he saw Yuuri for the first time, but he was only numb. Even after seeing the aftermath of the accident, even after knowing almost every detail about what had happened, Viktor still couldn’t believe that this person laying on the bed was _Yuuri._

They jumped when they heard the knock on the door, and the nurse that had led them there returned, accompanied by a kind-looking man who was undoubtedly the doctor.

“Hello, my name is Dr. Kihara and I’m the one in charge of Katsuki-san’s treatments,” he said, thankfully introducing himself in English.

Yuuri’s parents introduced themselves in turn, and as soon as Viktor said his own name, there was a flash of recognition behind the doctor’s glasses. _Just how many people were familiar with our relationship?_ Viktor wondered, leaning back against the wall. Dr. Kihara made no mention that he knew who Viktor was, but it was almost fascinating how well-known Yuuri was in Japan.

Dr. Kihara pulled a stool toward where they were located and sat down. His expression was much more serious now, and Viktor stilled.

“This is going to be hard to hear, but I need you all to listen carefully.” Dr. Kihara looked at each of them before saying, “Katsuki-san is _extremely_ lucky to be alive right now. If he was brought in any later, there’s no doubt he would have died.”

Viktor’s hands twisted in his shirt.

_Died?_

“We’re still unsure of how Katsuki-san’s body will react to the rod we placed inside his femur, but the swelling in his brain has receded tremendously since the surgery. His ribs also seem to be healing nicely.” Then he glanced at his clipboard before meeting their eyes again. “If nothing goes wrong, we are hopeful that he will make a complete recovery.”

Hiroko and Toshiya were silent, taking in the information, and Viktor could only stare at the wooden floor. What would’ve happened if the accident had been farther away? If the paramedics hadn’t gotten there in time?

Viktor’s shirt was definitely going to tear if he kept this up.

“Will he be okay?” Viktor blurted, and the nurse standing to the side smiled.

“We hope so.”

It wasn’t a _no,_ but it wasn’t a _yes_ either. Viktor knew better than anyone else how much power words had. They had to tread carefully here.

Viktor sat quietly in the corner as the nurse finished checking the machines, and once she left, Viktor moved the chair to Yuuri’s bedside. He was afraid to touch him, knowing that just one small shift in the machines could send Yuuri’s battered body into further chaos, but Viktor slipped his fingers through Yuuri’s and squeezed.

Though there was no reaction to Viktor’s touch, he still felt relief knowing that Yuuri was here—warm and breathing and _real._

It had been a nightmare these past few hours (had it only been a few hours?) not knowing if Yuuri would live. Soft murmurs from the Katsukis and the nurse surrounded him, and Viktor barely registered them until Hiroko addressed him.  

“Vicchan, can you look after Yuuri while we step out?” she asked, and Viktor nodded.

Except for the steady _beep_ of Yuuri’s heart monitor, it was silent in the room as the minutes ticked by. Viktor held Yuuri’s hand through it all, stroking the soft skin and wishing that Yuuri was awake to squeeze back.

How could Viktor _ever_ have let Yuuri go like this? That last smile from the hotel room seemed like ages ago. The time spent here stretched on for hours. Perhaps moments like these created liminal spaces of their own—existing endlessly within their own time.

“I’m so sorry,” Viktor whispered, gently lifting Yuuri’s palm to his lips. “I’m so sorry that I wasn’t there.”

Yuuri, of course, didn’t respond. He remained just as he was when they’d first walked in, quiet and serene. He’d look completely normal if it weren’t for the obvious signs he’d been in a serious accident. Bandages were wrapped tightly around Yuuri’s head, a mask was secured to his mouth, his leg was anchored to the ceiling, and there were countless scratches and lacerations from the seatbelt and broken glass littered all over his exposed skin—yet to Viktor, there was nothing more beautiful than seeing him alive.

Viktor tried to imagine a future in which they’d never hidden their relationship, and his throat closed at the thought. Maybe if he hadn’t been so selfish, Yuuri wouldn’t have even been lying here. Maybe it could’ve been both of them on the way to the airport, and Viktor could be relaxing by Yuuri’s side in his family’s inn right now. Hiroko and Toshiya wouldn’t have had to drop everything to see their critically-injured son.

His breaths caught in his lungs. Now was not the time to cry. Not in front of Yuuri, not—

The door swung open, and the voices Viktor barely registered earlier became clear.

“—is in here, Yuuko-chan.”

Yuuri’s parents stepped in again, accompanied by a woman Viktor didn’t know. Yet clearly, she knew him based on the way her eyes narrowed with thinly-veiled distrust.

“Vicchan’s visiting too,” Hiroko said softly, her gaze moving from the woman to Viktor. “We’re all here for Yuuri. I already asked you to keep an open mind, Yuuko-chan.”

“Let me talk to him first, Oba-san,” she said, her eyes still piercing into Viktor.

Viktor let go of Yuuri’s hand and stood, making the chair scrape back. “Of course.” He glimpsed Hiroko and Toshiya’s worried expressions as he passed by, but kept his head held high as he met Yuuko in the hallway.

“Why are you _really_ here?” she demanded once the door closed, arms crossed over her chest. “What sort of game are you playing?”

Viktor blinked, taken aback by her sudden aggression. “To see Yuuri,” he insisted. “I swear it. That’s the only reason.”

But Yuuko simply stared at him, disbelief written on her face as she absorbed his words. Then she shook her head, muttering, “I can’t believe you. This is _ridiculous._ ”

“Because the truth sounds stranger than what other people made up?” Viktor asked, frustrated. It was like Celestino interrogating him all over again, and he was so _tired._ “Because _you_ can’t give me a chance?”

Yuuko’s head snapped up, eyes blazing. “Then why did Yuuri call me _crying_ because of you?” she hissed, brandishing the words like a weapon. And they might as well have been one because Viktor recoiled like she’d slapped him.

“I—what? When?” Viktor finally whispered, confused. He'd never known that.

“Three years ago, after his first Grand Prix Final,” she said, the words barely audible. “He called me, _drunk_ and in tears, saying that he’d never felt so humiliated in his life. I couldn’t get the whole story out of him,” she said, her gaze steely as she looked at him, “but your name was in there too many times for me to ignore.”

“A-Are you—” Viktor took a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself down enough to continue. The previous fury had vanished, and was now replaced with an ache he couldn’t remove. All he could do was choke on the air that filled his lungs, despair ripping through every part of his body. He was distantly aware of a voice speaking—maybe it was him, maybe it was Yuuko—and he knew that if he stayed here any longer the tears he’d fought back would finally begin to fall.  

So Viktor mumbled out a _please excuse me,_ striding down the hallway and into the nearest bathroom he could find.

He flipped the lock.

Viktor didn’t want this. He didn’t want _any_ of this. Then Viktor let out a shuddering breath, gripping the sink countertop so tightly that his hands shook. Revealing his true relationship with Yuuri wasn’t going to be easy—Viktor _knew_ that. But he didn’t think it was going to be so hard either.

And oh God, he’d made Yuuri _cry._ Yuuri’s memory was notoriously faulty when he drank too much—something he apparently inherited from mild-mannered Toshiya—so there was almost no chance of him remembering exactly what he’d told Yuuko all those years ago.

Then Viktor reached inside his pocket again, his fingers brushing against the warmed metal of Yuuri’s ring. He closed his eyes. But that was all in the past. It was time to make a new future; one where they wouldn’t hide.

Viktor stepped away from the sink, wiped away the remaining tears, and slid the ring onto his pinky. If Yuuko didn’t believe him, then he would just have to prove it to her.

 

* * *

 

> **phichit_chu** **  
> ** _Detroit Skating Club_
> 
> [video description: A series of carefully-spliced clips of Yuuri Katsuki attempting quad flip after quad flip and falling every time. The last one, though, shows him finally landing one. A _“YES!”_ can be heard as Yuuri fist pumps the air and his smile is bright and wild as he whirls around to face the camera. “Phichit, did you get that?” he asks, skating closer, then the video freezes on his grinning face.]
> 
> Liked by **christophe_gc** , **yuuri_nikiforever** , and **601,398 others**
> 
> **phichit_chu** Nothing can hold my best friend back! He’ll be back and skating before we know it #hopeforyuuri
> 
> _View all 5,104 comments_

* * *

 

Viktor found himself in Yuuri’s room again.

He’d honestly meant to go and look for Yuuko and the Katsukis, but then his feet automatically took him back here, to where Yuuri was.

The room was empty when he walked in, save for the nurse who was rechecking Yuuri’s vitals.

“Katsuki-san’s family was looking for you,” she told him, glancing up from her clipboard. “They’re at a nearby conbini eating a late lunch if you want to meet them.”

“Thank you,” Viktor murmured, sinking down in the chair at Yuuri’s bedside. The ring on his pinky caught the light when he held Yuuri’s hand, and another flash of gold had him glancing over to the side table.

Then his breath caught in his throat.

Yuuri’s necklace was lying there, the two pendants shining as brilliantly as they were when they were first exchanged. Distantly, Viktor knew that the hospital wouldn’t just throw away anything that belonged to their patients, but relief still coursed through his body at the sight.

And it might’ve been completely stupid to think this, but if the ring was okay, then Yuuri would be too. It was a fool’s hope, but hope was the strongest thing Viktor had.

The nurse turned to leave, but the door swung open before she could touch it. A murmured apology passed between her and the visitor, and Viktor stiffened when he saw Yuuko in the doorframe. Then as she sidestepped the nurse, her gaze fell to where Viktor’s hands were laced with Yuuri’s.

Viktor opened his mouth to say something, but Yuuko blurted out an “I’m sorry” before he could. “About earlier,” she added, her eyes looking everywhere but him. “That was out of line, and I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he managed, but Yuuko shook her head.

“Oba-san told me everything. And so did Celestino. They… they told me about how much you loved Yuuri-kun, and I didn’t want to believe it.” Then she finally looked at him, smiling weakly. “Until I saw you holding his hand, with no one around you to prove something to. You—you really love him, don’t you.”

The words were too easy to say, even with the weight and meaning that they carried. “With my whole heart.”

“G-Good. There’s no one who deserves that kind of love more than he does.” Then she shifted in place a little, cheeks coloring. “We brought back some food from the conbini. There should be some extra if you’re hungry.”

Viktor glanced back at Yuuri. But he pressed a hand to his stomach as it rumbled, realizing that he hadn’t eaten all day. “That sounds good,” he admitted, reluctantly letting go of Yuuri's palm.

Yuuko picked up a floral-patterned bag from the floor that he hadn’t noticed before. “Um. Let’s go, then.”

The walk there might’ve been the most awkward interaction Viktor ever had. Even though Yuuko apologized, Viktor still felt wary in her presence. He chalked it up to her possibly overprotective tendencies (he could see how a concerned friend would act that way based off of a phone call and countless news articles), but Viktor was still relieved when he saw Hiroko and Toshiya beaming at him in the waiting room.

The food was delicious, even though Yuuko claimed that the katsudon in the takeaway bento “wasn’t as good as Oba-san’s.” If Hiroko’s cooking was even better than something he wondered if gods ate, then he was looking forward to eating it.

Viktor set down his chopsticks and sighed happily. “Thank you for the food. I didn’t realize how hungry I was.” And it was true; he’d managed to put away an entire bowl.

The five of them (Celestino had eventually joined them) were currently sitting in the waiting room, away from everyone else. The TV screen was still dark from when Viktor had turned it off that morning, but there was no one else in the room besides their group.

“Vicchan, how long are you going to stay here?” Hiroko asked him as she started placing the empty containers into a plastic bag. “You have a competition soon, yes?”

“At least until Nationals,” Viktor said. "Or until Yuuri wakes up. I don't want to leave until I know he's okay."

It was unthinkable to skate in Barcelona without Yuuri there. Not after everything they’d promised each other, everything they vowed to leave on the ice, _everything_ that that gold medal meant to them. He couldn’t.

“Wait, but what about the Grand Prix?” Yuuko asked, brows furrowed. “Your title? Your country?”

Viktor smiled, the edges feeling brittle. There were more important things than skating. “It’s about time I took a break, right? I can always skate in the next one.”

Celestino frowned as well. “Viktor, that’s not a good idea. You of all people know how small a figure skater’s athletic window is. Imagine how hard it would be to return once you left.”

“Yuuri’s watched you skate for eleven years,” Yuuko added. “ _We_ have. He’d hate to think that he was the reason why you stopped skating.”

“How do you know what Yuuri wants? What _I_ want?” Viktor asked, his tone struggling to stay even. The conversation was beginning to sound dangerously close to everything he tried to avoid thinking about —his age, his aching body, how the younger generation of skaters was rapidly improving with each passing day—it was hard to stay in control of himself when all he wanted to do was leave. “The only reason Yuuri’s here is because of _my_ selfish choice to keep our relationship a secret, and I’m not leaving him just to chase after a medal that means nothing in the long run.”

Because while the ice may have been his first love, Yuuri held his heart—skating be _damned_ if it took him away from Yuuri when he needed him most.  

Then it was Toshiya who cut in, diffusing the tension in the room before it could escalate any further. “Vicchan is a grown adult who can make his own decisions,” he said, more steel in his voice than Viktor had ever registered before. “If he wants to stay with Yuuri, he can stay. If he wants to skate, he can skate. Let him do what he wants.”

“But call your coach,” Hiroko interjected quietly, offering a soft smile. “No matter what choice you make. I know he’s worried about you.”

Viktor deflated, seeing her point. “Okay. I’ll… I’ll talk to him.”

Night was already beginning to fall when they all parted ways. The Katsukis were staying in the room that the hospital offered them while Yuuko went to a nearby hotel she’d booked earlier. It was only Viktor and Celestino sitting outside on the bench like they had before, silence stretching between them. Then Celestino’s taxi pulled up, and he gave Viktor a gruff “Goodnight” before leaving him as well.

And after half a day of radio silence, Viktor turned his phone on. It took a while for all the notifications he’d missed to appear on the screen, but he ignored those and pulled up Yakov’s contact information.

The call immediately went to voicemail.

 _He’s on the plane already,_ Viktor realized. It made sense—Yakov had other students to attend to, and he couldn’t ignore their training just because Viktor decided to go off the radar. It wouldn’t make what he was about to say any easier, but there was much less pressure in leaving a message rather than speaking directly to him.

“Hi Yakov!” Viktor said as soon as he heard the beep, trying to put cheer in his voice. “I’m—” He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. He hadn’t felt this nervous in front of Yakov since he had to tell him he’d impulsively bought a poodle puppy at fifteen. “I-I’m okay. I’m visiting Yuuri Katsuki in the hospital, and they’re not sure when he's going to be skating again…”

A few seconds of silence passed, and then Viktor whispered, “I don't know when _I'm_ going to be skating again." He sighed into the receiver. "Sorry, I'll call you again later. Bye. Safe flight.”

Viktor pulled his phone away from his ear and stared at Yakov’s contact information for a moment, before turning it off and letting his arm drop down to his side.

_What would make Yuuri and I happiest?_

 

* * *

 

Twenty-four hours had passed since Viktor first heard the news of Yuuri’s accident, and he'd given a lot of thought about what he wanted to do. Yakov called back within that time, and was surprisingly calm about Viktor’s possible break from skating.

“It’s your choice, Vitya,” he'd said. “I’m not going to make you choose between the two things you love.”

“H-How did you—”

“There was no other reason for you to be so affected by Katsuki’s accident, _or_ for you to suddenly disappear from the competition,” Yakov stated. “I'm _old,_ Vitya. Not idiotic.”

“Yakov…”

“Come home when you can. I’ll still be here if you want to skate again, but you have to let me know within the week. The ISU may kill me if they have to scramble for another skater in the Final the night before.”

Viktor laughed despite himself. “I’ll let you know. Thank you.”

“Goodbye, Vitya.”

Viktor joined Yuuko for breakfast that morning in a nearby restaurant, and when he pulled out his wallet to pay with the remaining yen he had, Yuuko shook her head. “Consider it my treat. I still need to apologize properly for the way I treated you yesterday.”

“You already bought me another set of clothes!” Viktor protested. The bag containing his sweaty tracksuit was at their feet. “Let me pay.”

Yuuko raised an eyebrow. “And _how_ much money do you have left?”

Viktor slowly put his wallet away, sighing at her victorious look.

“Um, if it’s not too personal,” Yuuko said once the check was paid and the dishes taken away, “how did you and Yuuri-kun start dating?”

“We’re engaged, actually.” At Yuuko’s shocked expression, Viktor pulled off the ring on his pinky and showed it to her. “The pair is on a necklace in his room. But honestly, we just fell into our relationship. We’d started DMing on Instagram after the media blew up our ‘rivalry,’ and just never decided to correct anyone. Made it hard to be seen together, though.”

“Wow,” she breathed, a small smile spreading across her face as she handed back the ring. “If I didn’t believe you already, hearing you now would’ve sold me.”

“Why?”

“There’s just… something that _glows_ in your expression when you talk about Yuuri-kun,” Yuuko said, waving her hand. “It makes me wonder if I look like that when I talk about Takeshi.”

“O-Oh.” It wasn’t hard to feel lovestruck when Yuuri was the subject of the conversation. Not at all. If he was allowed to, Viktor knew he could list a million and one things he loved about Yuuri—starting with the life and love he gave him with each passing day.

“Have you thought about your decision yet?” Yuuko asked. He’d told her that Yakov called even before they started eating.

“A bit,” he admitted. “I want to stay with Yuuri, but I was thought about what you said yesterday while I talked with Yakov. About how Yuuri would want me to skate.” Yuuko stayed quiet, tilting her head as she listened. “And then I wondered if I could dedicate this win to him—so when he wakes up, he’ll be welcomed into a world that knows about us.”

“It’s up to you,” she said slowly. “And I’m sorry if this sounds like I’m pushing you back to skate, but… I really think you should go for it. I don’t think anything would make Yuuri happier when he wakes up to see _you_ happy and waiting for him to join you on the ice again.” Her lips quirked up. “Because we _both_ know that nothing’s going to keep him away from that.”

Viktor let out a huff. “Yeah. You’re right.”

They stood up once Yuuko’s card was given back, and she slung a bag of takeout over her arm for the Katsukis.

“I guess I’ll have to buy a plane ticket for tonight and tell Yakov I’m coming back,” Viktor murmured as they ducked into the taxi.

“That’d be a good idea,” Yuuko agreed, buckling her seatbelt. Then she told the taxi driver, “Aizawa Hospital, please.”

The next few hours passed by much too quickly. Viktor used the hospital wifi to book himself an admittedly pricy flight back to St. Petersburg, he ate lunch with Yuuko and the Katsukis (Celestino had gone back to America that morning), and spent the remaining time he had saying goodbye to Yuuri.

The three of them left him alone in the room there, something that Viktor was grateful for because the sight of Yuuri lying comatose made tears spring in his eyes every time he looked at him. Appearance-wise, nothing had changed since yesterday. But Viktor prayed that Yuuri was slowly healing, and getting ready to wake up on his own time.

“I’ll be waiting for you, _lyubov,_ ” he whispered into his clasped hands. “Don’t take too long—I’m not sure how much longer I can live without you.” Then Viktor pressed a kiss to Yuuri’s knuckles, and later to his bruised temple.

He took one last look at Yuuri before he finally had to leave, taking in the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the sunlight filtering through the window, and the reflection of the gold ring wrapped around Yuuri’s thumb, a pair to the one on Viktor's pinky.

“See you soon,” he whispered, then quietly shut the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Hi I'm back ^^;
> 
> It's been very crazy these last few months, but hey! New chapter! It's exciting!!! I graduate today, so I felt that you all needed a gift for waiting so patiently thank you so much c':
> 
> Please tell me what you thought!!
> 
> [tumblr](https://postingpebbles.tumblr.com) // [twitter](https://twitter.com/postingpebbles)


	5. stop time right here in the moonlight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title: "sad song" by we the kings
> 
> And in other news, there's now actual _[music](https://joeys-piano.tumblr.com/post/175108740686/requested-for-postingpebbles-for-their-wip-sweet)_ for this fic!! Pls listen to it and show Joey some love, the soundtrack is absolutely gorgeous  <3

> **binktop-nikiforvv**
> 
> [image description: A blurry photo of Viktor with sunglasses perched on his nose, dressed in clothes that are _slightly_ too small for him. The corner of a backpack can be seen at the edge of the picture, as if the photographer was in a hurry. There’s a downward slump to his shoulders as he sits there, and his silver hair isn’t as immaculate as it normally looks. The background is even blurrier, but it’s easy to tell that it’s an airport.
> 
> Liked by **alipiee** , **pastingstones** , and **210 others**
> 
> **binktop-nikiforovv** before my flight home i found viktor and he looks really tired :( davai, vitya!!
> 
> _View all 23 comments_
> 
> 1 WEEK AGO
> 
> **alipiee** he looks like he rlly needs a hug :( DAVAI VITYA!

 

* * *

    

> **v_nikiforov**  
>  _Yubileyny Sports Palace_
> 
> [video description: The opening sequence of Viktor’s free skate. He’s in the center of the frame, looking somberly at the ice before the music plays and he lifts his face to the heavens with an unreadable expression. He tilts his head back and brushes the back of his hand against his forehead, then wraps his arms around himself like he’s holding an invisible lover. Viktor then skates forward, his hands reaching out for something—or _someone_ —that isn’t there.]
> 
> Liked by **nikiforov_fc** , **tattoosofiron** , and **97,173 others**
> 
> **v_nikiforov** Ready for the GPF!
> 
> _View all 4,249 comments_
> 
> **nikiforov_fc** Давай Виктор!! We’ll be rooting for you! <3
> 
> **tattoosofiron** as beautiful as vitya’s skating always is, doesn’t something seem a little… off about this program to anyone else?
> 
> **cakepopart** @tattoosofiron I didn’t think so at first, but yeah now that I’m watching it again I can see it. I hope Vitya will be okay for the final :/
> 
> 4 DAYS AGO

 

* * *

  

> **burnedmythanatoast** @burnedmythanatoast • 1d  
>  I still can’t believe Yuuri’s out of the GPF… I was so sure he was going to win this one #hopeforyuuri
> 
> _12/07/15, 9:46 AM_
> 
> 27 Retweets 58 Likes
> 
> **anymeh** @anymeh • 1d  
>  Replying to @burnedmythanatoast  
>  I guess vitya’s going to have a fairly easy win then?
> 
> **yuuris-piano** @yuurispiano • 1d  
>  Replying to @burnedmythanatoast and @anymeh  
>  Please remember that Christophe Giacometti and Otabek Altin are still serious contenders for gold. They could really surprise us at the GPF. Don’t count the other skaters out just because Viktor’s always won in the past.

 

* * *

 

####  **An Analysis of the Six Skaters Going to the GPF: Can Viktor Really Take Home Gold?**

Even though I started writing this back when Yuuri Katsuki (JPN) was still a contender, I can still share everything I’ve compiled about the other skaters and who are the likely three to podium.

First off, the Living Legend himself: Viktor Nikiforov of Russia. I’m predicting he won’t get anything less than gold, but there’s also the mysterious case of him being a no-show at the exhibition skate during the NHK Trophy, along with an image of him still being in Japan two days after the competition.

Is our Living Legend slowing down? We’ll just have to see.

_Read More _

4,282 notes

 

* * *

 

“Allo,” Viktor slurred, his vision bleary as he accepted the call. Who was insane enough to call at this time? There’d better be a good reason—

“Viktor, he’s awake.”

And then he was sitting up in bed, wide awake and phone pressed even harder to his ear. “What?” he breathed, not believing what he heard. “Yuuko, are you serious?”

“It was only for a few minutes,” she told him, her voice trembling, “but he’s awake. Yuuri’s awake.”

The words echoed around in his mind, and his attention tunneled just to those two words. _He’s awake. He’s_ awake. Then Viktor swallowed down the lump of emotion that threatened to surface, and lifted the blanket up to his mouth. “Thank you for telling me,” he whispered, not trusting himself to say anymore.

“Of course I would,” Yuuko replied, sounding soft. “I’m sorry for waking you, but I knew you’d want to hear this. Get some rest now. It’s late.”

“Early, more like.” Viktor tried to laugh, but it came out as a choked noise. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

When he hung up, Viktor burst into tears. They were heavy and choking and truly terrible, but the _relief_ that followed meant more than anything he’d ever felt. Because even though he knew Yuuri was alive, that feeling of unease and fear never really went away until he got Yuuko’s call.

Because that truly assured him that Yuuri was healing. That Yuuri was _okay,_ and would continue to get better.

“Thank God,” Viktor whispered into the blanket, tears still dripping into the fabric.

 

* * *

 

Yuuri called him back a few days later.

Viktor honestly couldn’t even believe it when he saw the caller ID at lunchtime—a picture of Vicchan, accompanied by the words _my sun._ He’d immediately excused himself to go to the bathroom, and once he locked the door behind him, he pressed the _accept call_ button with trembling fingers.

“Yuuri?” he asked, already feeling his throat tightening.

“Vitya,” Yuuri answered, sounding breathless. His voice was a little raspy, but the warmth and love that infused it made that possible to ignore. Hearing him like this— _oh,_ it was almost like that accident had never happened.

“How are you?” Viktor asked, wanting to hear it from Yuuri himself. “I visited when you were first admitted, but…”

“I know,” Yuuri said, his voice warm. “And I-I’m okay.” Viktor was glad to hear it, but he frowned when he heard Yuuri’s voice catch. “Okaa-san and Otou-san visit me every day, and though Yuuko-chan has to leave tomorrow—”

“Yuuri.”

“—I still appreciate that she’s here a-and—”

“ _Yuuri,_ ” Viktor repeated, “it’s okay. You don’t have to pretend around me.”

There was silence on the other end for a few seconds, then Viktor heard a wet sob. Yuuri crying was one of the worst sounds Viktor had ever heard, because it meant that there was nothing Viktor could do to stop it.

“It hurts to breathe sometimes because of my ribs, and I can’t even put weight on my leg yet,” Yuuri gasped, barely able to speak through his shuddering tears. “The doctors haven’t said anything yet, but Vitya, I’m—I’m _scared._ What if I can never skate again?”

The barely-concealed terror in his voice told Viktor that Yuuri had been thinking about this for a while now. It was probably the first thing he thought about ever since he woke up.

“We were going to get married once I won gold,” Yuuri whispered. There was another quiet sniffle on the other end, and Viktor’s heart broke at the sound. “I’m so sorry.”

“Yuuri, _no,_ ” Viktor said, lurching forward and his free hand wrapping around his stomach in a poor imitation of a hug. For him or for Yuuri, he wasn’t sure. “This isn’t your fault. It was an _accident._ ”

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri said again.

“I love you,” Viktor said, desperate.

“I’m _sorry—_ ”

“ _I love you._ ”

“I—!” Then he broke off.

They were both quiet for a while, just listening to each other breathe. If Viktor closed his eyes, it was like Yuuri was lying next to him in bed, rather than just Viktor sitting pathetically on the cold tiles of the Yubileyny Sports Palace bathroom, and Yuuri being thousands of miles away.  

“…I love you too,” Yuuri finally whispered back. “Vitya, I… I miss you.”

“Every day,” Viktor agreed, tilting his head up to stare at the marbled ceiling. “I wish I could be there with you.”

“Call me again soon?” Viktor asked, hating the way how his voice caught on the last word.

“Of course I will.” Yuuri’s answer was immediate. “What time are you leaving for Barcelona tomorrow? I’ll call you before your flight.”

_He knew the Final was coming up._

_Oh, Yuuri._

“8:15 in the morning,” Viktor replied, feeling awful. He knew he shouldn’t be blaming himself for being able to still compete, but a future of skating without Yuuri was something he hadn’t experienced for nearly three years.

“I’ll definitely be cheering for you. Bring home gold, okay?”

They talked for a while more, and every exchanged word only made Viktor want to run out into the streets of St. Petersburg and hop in the nearest taxi and to the airport to fly back to Yuuri.

And when the call disconnected, Viktor couldn’t find it within himself to get up just yet.

 

* * *

 

A month passed, and snow was blanketing the streets of St. Petersburg when Viktor passed by his window.

Both the Grand Prix Finals and Nationals had passed by in a blur, leaving him two gold medals and one heart heavier. Yuuri had called him each time, congratulating him on his win and wishing him a happy birthday after Nationals, but Viktor’s heart only broke at the wistfulness in his voice and the barely-concealed despair in his laugh.

“You _will_ skate again,” Viktor told him during the tail end of their conversation. “You’re strong, Yuuri. Stronger than anyone I know.”

“I want to be strong, but I don’t know if I _can_ be,” Yuuri whispered, his voice so wretched that Viktor wasn’t sure if he was meant to hear it.

“You don’t have to handle this alone. You’ll _never_ be alone,” Viktor promised, trying to keep his own voice steady for Yuuri’s sake. He couldn’t burden him with his own worry.

Thanks to Yuuri’s family, Viktor never stopped receiving updates on his condition. Yuuri’s body was growing stronger every day. His ribs were mended, he was undergoing extensive physical therapy to regain the range of motion in his leg that he was used to, yet the damage done to his brain still plagued Yuuri.

Yuuri always sidestepped the question whenever Viktor asked about it, but Hiroko admitted to him through one of their phone calls that Yuuri sometimes had dizzy spells bad enough that he couldn’t stand straight, and headaches were almost a daily fixture in his life now. The doctors still hadn’t explicitly told Yuuri that this could seriously affect his skating career for fear that all his physical improvement could deteriorate, but it was obvious that if his brain wasn’t able to fully heal—then Yuuri could never skate competitively again.

It struck terror into Viktor’s heart when Hiroko told him. Though Viktor had long recognized that there was more to the sport than surprising an audience, skating was who they were. Skating had made Viktor Nikiforov and Yuuri Katsuki into Viktor-and-Yuuri, one being composed of two wholes brought together.

But Viktor couldn’t be selfish. He’d already been blessed enough with the fact that Yuuri’s life was brought back to him. Wishing for something like Yuuri’s return to the ice was a pipe dream, but a dream he desperately wanted to hold on to.

Viktor puttered around his apartment, slipping on a thick trenchcoat and wrapping a threadbare blue scarf around his neck and over his mouth. The scarf had always been long, but Viktor had given up on keeping the ends from whipping through the wind.

“Be good, Makka,” Viktor said, crouching down and gently patting his gloved hands against the side of her head. “I’ll be home after practice.”

She whined and tried to lick his fingers, but Viktor pulled back before she could. He booped her nose instead.

Japan was six hours ahead of Russia.

Yuuri would probably be at his therapy session by now. Viktor tried to imagine what he was doing—maybe some more endurance work, maybe a bit of running? Was his leg strong enough for that yet? Some dancing if he was allowed; Viktor knew how dissatisfied Yuuri was with his decreased flexibility, but Viktor had faith he’d be doing spirals and Ina Bauers—

Viktor stopped suddenly in front of the door, his hand curling into a fist against the painted wood. He had to focus on Yuuri’s recovery, not what might or might not happen after. Yuuri’s healing was more important than Viktor’s own selfish wishes.

Then Makkachin butted her nose against Viktor’s thigh, serving as a reminder that he needed to be at practice soon. Yakov might know about his and Yuuri’s situation, but that didn’t mean he’d go easy on him right when Euros and Worlds were around the corner. Viktor needed to be at the top of his game before he retired.

“Thanks, sweet girl,” Viktor murmured, picking up his skate bag from the floor.

Once he was at the rink, Yuri Plisetsky fixed him with a suspicious look. “Did you go drinking again?” he asked, stomping up to him as Viktor laced up his skates. “You look like shit.”

Yuri was a firecracker, set to move up to Seniors within the upcoming season. He was brash, rude, and probably had the biggest heart out of all of Yakov’s skaters. Viktor hoped that last part never changed.

“No, just didn’t get enough sleep,” Viktor murmured. All the concealer in the world wouldn’t be enough to cover up the deep purple circles under his eyes.

“You should probably take a nap or something during your break,” Yuri said, crossing his arms. “If you fell asleep and hit your head on the ice, then who else would I have as competition now that Katsuki’s out of the picture—”

“ _Don’t say that!”_

Viktor’s voice rang through the rink, silencing everyone for a moment before the buzz returned. But Yuri had stepped back at Viktor’s outburst, his eyes wide. For once, Yuri seemed at a loss for words and Viktor hunched into himself, ashamed.

“I’m… sorry, Yura. I’m just tired.”

It was a roundabout way of showing care, and Viktor appreciated that the younger skater even _noticed_ that there was something going on with him, but none of them knew. _None_ of them knew what he was feeling. And there was no one he could talk to about this.

“Vitya…” Yuri ventured, his voice uncharacteristically small, but Viktor shot him a sunny smile.

“Don’t worry about me. It’s fine.”

It wasn’t fine.

Yuri’s face twisted, but he let it go. At least, Viktor thought he did until Yuri added, “Mila, Gosha, and I brought some blankets from home. They’re on the couch. I was going to use them, but I guess you need them more.”

Viktor really should be resting. There were too many nights he’d laid awake at night, staring glassily at the ceiling.

“Yura… thank you,” he whispered, but Yuri lifted his chin defiantly.

“I won’t be losing to an old idiot like you next season,” Yuri declared. “So hurry up and get better. There’s only two months until Worlds and we both have to be ready.”

Yuri flounced away then, and just as Viktor bent his head to finish lacing his skates, a shadow fell over him. Yuri must’ve forgotten something.

“Yu—” Viktor froze. “Yakov.”

“Vitya. I need to talk to you in my office. Keep your skate guards on.”

“…Okay.”

Viktor’s skates squeaked against the ground as he made his way to Yakov’s office, frowning slightly when Yakov fixed him with a particular _look._ He was familiar with these looks.

And this one meant a lecture.

“I heard from Yura that you haven’t been sleeping,” Yakov said, getting straight to the point as soon as the door shut behind him.

Viktor smiled in response, though his fingernails dug into his skin. “Yura’s worrying too much. I’ve been sleeping just fine.” A lie. He'd just admitted he wasn't sleeping well.

“You won’t make it to Worlds like this,” Yakov countered, his eyes narrowing. “You need to focus.”

Viktor winced; he should’ve known Yakov would see right through him. And though he knew that Yakov had a point, the words still stung. “I’ve _been_ focusing,” he insisted. “I’ve been coming here every day to practice and I’ve never failed. I’m _fine,_ Yakov.”

“No, you’re not,” Yakov growled. “I _know_ you, Vitya. You and Katsuki—” He lowered his voice, catching himself. “I know you’re worried about him,” he said, his voice a harsh whisper now, “but you’re forgetting yourself in the process. You’ve forgotten that he’s healing, while _you’re_ still stuck in grief.”

At his words, warmth began to build behind Viktor’s eyes, wet and unstoppable and traitorous, so he glanced up at the ceiling and tried to will the tears away. “So what?” Viktor murmured, blinking rapidly. He was being incredibly rude, stepping into insolence, but he was too worked up to care. “Am I not allowed to worry about the man I love?”

Yakov exhaled, frustrated, and said, “Vitya, that’s not what I meant—”

“Then what did you mean?” Viktor whispered, his voice shaking as he glared at Yakov through tear-filled eyes. “That I haven’t been skating well enough to win my fourth consecutive World Championship? That I’m going to fail and bring shame upon you and Russia?”

“ _Vitya!”_

Viktor flinched and stepped back, letting his hair fall over his eyes. Shame began to pool in his stomach, but he couldn’t find it within himself to take those words back. It was obvious that Yakov cared deeply about every single one of his skaters, Viktor included, but being the Living Legend was so much harder than just being Viktor.

He missed the ease he had with the Katsukis, their gentle arms and open hearts. He missed holding Yuuri in his arms. He missed the feeling of love on the ice, not the shackles it had slowly become.

“Go home,” Yakov finally said, massaging his temples. “You can’t skate like this.”

Viktor pressed his lips together in defiance, but at Yakov’s stern look, he nodded, tore off his skates, shoved them into his bag, and walked out into the brisk air of St. Petersburg.

 

* * *

  

> **katsuki_y** **  
> ** _Hasetsu_
> 
> [image description: Yuuri sitting in a wheelchair with a bright smile on his face. There’s a thick cast around one of his legs, and a few fading scars on his exposed skin, but he’s holding up his fingers in the shape of a _V,_ and there’s a plethora of get-well gifts (plus a pair of crutches) in the background. Something gold glints from both his hand and throat, but the photo isn’t focused enough to clearly make them out.]
> 
> Liked by **v_nikiforov, reddyonice,** and **209,439 others**
> 
> **katsuki_y** Working hard or hardly working? Thank you everyone for your well-wishes, and good luck to my friends competing at Worlds! I’ll definitely be ready for next season, so wait for me!
> 
> _View all 4,947 comments_
> 
> **phichit_chu** GO YUURI GO THAT’S MY BEST FRIEND
> 
> **katsuki_fc** 勇利君 頑張って !
> 
> **reddyonice** uM has no one noticed that VIKTOR NIKIFOROV liked this post???
> 
> **weirdlisttola** @reddyonice hOLY SHIT YOU'RE RIGHT
> 
> 22 HOURS AGO

 

* * *

 

Boston was a beautiful city. Caught between the transitional period between winter and spring, it seemed like the air hadn’t decided what it wanted to be yet, but there was something open about the atmosphere that Viktor loved.

As he stepped out of the airport and into the crisp air, he took in the Boston skyline and the gentle sunset dipping into the horizon. Viktor’s breath fogged when he exhaled, wisping into tendrils that disappeared with the wind.

At open practice the next morning, Viktor ran through segments of his short program. There was no use keeping all of it secret when everyone had been using the same programs since the beginning of the season, so he immediately dove into his favorite section—the step sequences.

They were a strange amalgamation of both his and Yuuri’s skating styles; it had the complexity and intricate grace that Yuuri loved, but still had some components that made Viktor’s skating his own.

There were more skaters at Worlds compared to other competitions in the season, and besides the Olympics, of course, there was no greater honor than medalling here. If Viktor won this, this would be his fourth consecutive win.

When practice was over, Viktor skated over to where Georgi was so they could go back together. Georgi offered him a small smile when he noticed his approach, and said, “You looked great out there. There’s no doubt you’ll win gold for sure.”

Viktor laughed a little, though it felt like something cold was poking his heart. “We’ll see. You and Chris are still competing, and I know Cao Bin’s trying to medal before he retires.”

Georgi’s expression took on something akin to fondness as they made their way to the sidelines. “You flatter me, Vitya.”

“You’re a talented skater, Gosha,” Viktor said sincerely. “I mean that.”

Georgi huffed, a small smile appearing on his lips. “Good luck today.”

Viktor smiled back. “You too.”

The men’s short program was taking place tonight, and Viktor had drawn fourth place in the skate. Georgi was going before him, but Viktor’s head wasn’t entirely focused on his rinkmate’s program. Normally, he’d be mentally examining and picking apart his own programs, trying to maximize the number of points he’d be able to squeeze out through a rearrangement of the jump sequences, but his mind kept drifting back to Yuuri.

Viktor and Yuuri had barely talked before the short program, and Viktor had never felt lonelier. Viktor prided himself on being able to read Yuuri easily—something that even those closest to him had trouble with sometimes—but the soft tones were indecipherable.

He wondered what was going on, now that Yuuri was back in Hasetsu.

Viktor offered Georgi a handshake when they passed by each other, Georgi making his way to the Kiss and Cry while Viktor waited by the rinkside for his cue.

His short program was a more explosive skate compared to the sweet, longing tones of _Stammi Vicino,_ providing the perfect contrast. The jumps made him feel like he was flying, the spins made him feel like he was untouchable, the step sequences made him feel like he could run forever and never have to look back. It had made Yakov raise an eyebrow when Viktor initially proposed the idea, but Yakov hadn’t choreographed his programs since he was twenty. He’d offered changes and suggestions, but there had been no significant objections to his programs for a while now.

Secretly, Viktor choreographed it so he could allow his movements to scream to the world what his voice couldn’t.

 _“Representing Russia, Viktor Nikiforov!”_ boomed the announcer, and Viktor shook his head as he skated to the middle of the ice, a broad smile spreading across his face. He waved to the crowd, doing his best to soak up their warmth into a body that only seemed to chill from the inside out.

The music began to play, and Viktor moved seamlessly into the program, wiping his mind clean of every trouble that plagued him. He went into his first jumps—a quad salchow, triple flip combination, absolutely perfect and each landing solid beneath his blade.

Then he moved into a dizzying combination spin as the drums began to crescendo, the violins singing in harmony, and Viktor soared across the ice with the step sequences he so loved.

But everything went wrong the moment he started the entry into the quad flip.

_“I’ll do everything I can to make sure we can get married.”_

Viktor hesitated for just a millisecond too long, lost in his thoughts before he launched into the jump, and as he felt himself rotating in the air he knew he wouldn’t be landing this.

The crowd gasped as Viktor underrotated the flip and touched down on the ice before moving into the second half of the program, but he pushed himself through the rest. Skaters touched down on jumps all the time. It was fine. _Viktor_ was fine.

His core tightened as he prepared for his last jump, a triple axel, and Viktor sighed imperceptibly as the landing was what it should’ve been.

The program was far from a disaster, but any Viktor Nikiforov program with even a single fault could still be considered one, leaving him open and vulnerable to attack as soon as he stepped off the ice. As Viktor skated into his final position, the crowd exploded into applause, and Viktor allowed himself to smile even as his hand twinged from sliding across the ice.

That same smile appeared again when the standings were announced later, with Christophe Giacometti inching Viktor out for first in the short programs.

Chris cornered him later, his eyes narrowed and brows pinched with concern.

“Are you okay?” he asked, taking Viktor by the arm and leading him to a secluded hallway. “Not that I’m upset to be beating you for once,” Chris joked, half-hearted, “but that wasn’t _you_ out there. What’s going on?”

“Had a lot on my mind,” Viktor said, offering a weak smile. “But don’t worry, I’ll be giving you a fair fight during the free. I promise.”

Chris gave him a once-over, clearly not believing him, but relented. “Be sure to rest before coming to dinner tonight,” he told him, unknowingly repeating what everyone had been telling him for the past few months. “I want to beat you at your best.”

Viktor nodded. Maybe there was some modicum of truth in all of their words. “I’ll do my best.”

When he and Chris eventually parted ways, Viktor slung his skate bag over his shoulder and turned his phone on. There were some missed texts from Yuuko, Hiroko, and _Yuuri,_ wishing him luck. A smile drifted across his lips unknowingly.

Then his phone lit up with a call, and Viktor accepted it without a second thought.

“You were beautiful out there,” Yuuri said as soon as the call connected, his voice breathless. “I might’ve broken another rib from cheering too hard!”

“But Yuuri, I—I _fell,_ ” Viktor said in disbelief. There was no doubt that his mistake was all over the news now. Viktor hadn’t fallen on a jump in _years._

“ _Beautiful,”_ Yuuri insisted, the warmth in his voice chasing away his worry for now. “I could search the world—but _no one_ is better than you.”

A laugh bubbled from Viktor’s throat. “You sound better today,” he said.

“So do you!” Yuuri said, a laugh of his own echoing through the phone. “I haven’t heard you laugh like that in a while.” His voice took on a more remorseful tone. “And… I’m sorry for worrying you these past few months. I know it’s been hard on you, dealing with me and my stupid head.”

Viktor shook his head before he realized that Yuuri wouldn’t even be able to see it. “Of course not. This is what I’m here for. To support you.”

“But I’m here to support you too,” Yuuri reminded him. “You’ve been staying strong for me for so long, and I want to give that back to you tenfold. You don’t have to put on a brave face when you’re around me, Vitya—we lean on each other. So… let me hold you for now?”

Viktor was quiet for a moment, his breath shaky as he exhaled. “Let me lean on you for tonight,” he murmured, his back sliding against the wall as he slipped to the ground.

“For as long as you’d like.”

Yuuri began to sing through the phone, soft and lilting, and Viktor closed his eyes.

When this was all over, Viktor would be in Yuuri’s arms for real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They'll reach that happy ending soon... I promise... ;;;;;
> 
> And again, please please _please_ listen to the beautiful [music](https://joeys-piano.tumblr.com/post/175108740686/requested-for-postingpebbles-for-their-wip-sweet) Joey made for this fic, it fits the mood super well c':
> 
> Please tell me what you thought? <3
> 
> [tumblr](https://postingpebbles.tumblr.com) // [twitter](twitter.com/postingpebbles)


	6. i will love you endlessly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title: "endlessly" by the cab

The next two days passed by quickly, filled with additional practice and a chance to wander around Boston.

Yuuri’s ring was a solid, comforting weight around Viktor’s pinky during that time, grounding him and providing an outlet for any stress that had accumulated throughout his day. Viktor wasn’t sure if it was because this was the first time he’d really worn the ring where it was (almost) supposed to be, but he felt more comfortable in himself than he had in a while. The gold was shiny enough to catch the light of anything he’d passed, and he’d had to brush off any questions about the seemingly “new” piece of jewelry from the press and competitors alike.

“Bring home gold, Vitya,” Yakov said gruffly, placing a hand on Viktor’s shoulder. “Focus on clean jumps. Exaggerate the emotion.”

Viktor took a deep breath and nodded. His left hand brushed over the ring on his right, taking comfort in its presence. He knew that he wasn’t entirely calm, but he felt different today. Good or bad, he didn’t know, but Viktor knew that he had to win this.

Viktor shrugged off his red and white Team Russia and handed it to Yakov. He stood there quietly in his costume, closing his eyes and going through the program for what could be the last time he’d ever skate it.

There was a small pang in his heart at the thought. Despite everything that had happened, _everything_ that that program had grown to be and represent ever since Yuuri came into his life, Viktor didn’t want to let _Stammi Vicino_ go.

(There was some part him that feared the worst would happen if he ever did.)

Viktor must’ve been deeper in his mind than he first thought because the previous competitor was receiving their scores, and it was suddenly his turn to take the ice. _278.49,_ Viktor heard over the loudspeaker as he lapped the rink before settling in the middle. _I can beat that._

He took a deep breath, and then—

_“DAVAI, VITYA!”_

Viktor’s head jerked up, his eyes widening. Who would—no. Impossible. It couldn’t be. He _knew_ that voice.

“ _Yuuri?”_ he whispered, turning to face the rinkside. And sure enough, Yuuri Katsuki was standing there— _standing!—_ and wearing a bright smile that Viktor swore he could feel from here.

“DAVAI!” Yuuri yelled again once their gazes met, and Viktor pressed a hand to his mouth to hold back a sob. His mind was still whirling with the realization that Yuuri was here in _Boston_ of all places, just to see _him._

“You’re always full of surprises, my love,” Viktor murmured to himself, kissing his ring. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Yuuri doing the same exact thing.

He skated to the center of the rink, his heart pulsing with a thousand emotions at once. Then he blew a small kiss to his life and love, thinking, _Please watch me, Yuuri. Please stay close._

Then the music for Stammi Vicino began, soft and somber and slow, and Viktor _skated_. He skated with more of himself than he ever had before, putting his love—his _soul_ —into every movement.

This program was made for love. It was strength, it was courage, it was more than just Viktor.

He clutched his arms to his chest before sinking down on one knee. His arms reached out to where Yuuri was standing, the pull to be back by Yuuri’s side burning brightly within him.

Then he wondered—

Would Yuuri skate this with him? The musician Viktor commissioned for this piece had gifted him another file containing a complementary version, calling it the _Duetto._

But Viktor tucked that thought into the back of his mind for later. They could talk about it then.

The quad lutz was one of the hardest jumps known to the figure skating world, but Viktor didn’t claw his way to the top by taking it easy. The blade scraped sweetly against the ice as he landed, and the resulting cheer from the audience was deafening.

He moved into the next segment of his program, feeling the lightest sheen sweat begin to bead on his forehead, but Viktor simply closed his eyes and let his body glide into the familiar movements.

A quad flip. Flawless.

The skate felt different this time. Much different from the last time he’d had to perform it, which was at Nationals. But it was no matter.

Because everything _was_ different.

Viktor didn’t have to long for Yuuri’s presence by his side—he already had it. This program had evolved so much since then. But oh _god,_ the free skate had never felt so long before, though Viktor pushed through.

He raised his hands in supplication before moving into the triple axel (three and a half rotations, Yuuri’s favorite jump), and his heart sang just as his body did, moving in tandem with the sliding strings and crooning voice.

Then Viktor slowed alongside the music, and he closed his eyes before pushing off the ice again. A few step sequences, another jump—the drums began to crescendo, thundering in Viktor’s soul.

The music crashed around him as Viktor skated his heart out, his steps fluid and his arms full of grace, and _oh,_ now this was a surprise. A smile flickered on his face as he skated to where Yuuri was and just for a moment, they were close enough to touch.

 _Wait for me, Yuuri,_ Viktor thought as he moved into his last spin. _I’m almost there._

Then the music faded and Viktor was left in the center of the ice, his breathing harsh and his cheeks wet with tears.  

Countless poodle plushies rained down from the ceiling as fans screamed after his performance, but Viktor only had eyes for one. Yuuri was still standing in the same spot with the brightest, most beautiful smile on his face, and Viktor’s skates lurched underneath, carrying him faster ( _faster!)_ to the arms of the man he loved.

“Yuuri, I did great, right?”

The words were pulled out of him the closer he came, and the closer he came the easier he could make out the glint of gold at his throat and around Yuuri’s finger—

“The greatest,” Yuuri whispered when Viktor nearly tackled him and hugged him close, tucking Yuuri’s head under his chin. He felt thinner, less substantial, but the strength of the arms around Viktor’s middle were no lie. “The greatest _ever_.”

Cameras swarmed the two of them as soon as Viktor stepped off the ice, reporters asking incessant questions about why Yuuri was here, why they were hugging like friends, but Viktor paid them no mind. Instead, he held Yuuri tighter.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Viktor whispered, smiling as Yuuri wiped his tears away.

“I am too.”

Yakov, meanwhile, was scolding the reporters. “We have to receive Vitya’s scores now, so leave him be. Now let’s _go,_ Vitya. Katsuki.” Viktor was rooted in place, stunned by his coach’s words, but then Yakov gestured to the benches. “Well? You’ll get deductions if you keep the next skater waiting, Vitya, you _know_ this.”

Then Viktor nodded. “Y-Yes. Of course.” So he gripped Yuuri’s hand tightly in his own, and the three of them made their way to the Kiss and Cry.

Yuuri fidgeted next to him as they sat, waiting for Viktor’s scores, and Viktor laced their fingers together again. To give Yuuri or himself strength, he didn’t know, but he knew that it felt _right._

“ _And now, the results for Viktor Nikiforov…_ ”

When the score was read out over the loudspeaker, the numbers higher than Viktor had ever imagined, Viktor turned to face Yuuri. He was sure that the shocked joy on Yuuri’s face mirrored his own, down to the last tear in his eyes, and it was definitely that feeling that tipped Viktor over to do something that he’d dreamed of for _months._

Now, Viktor wasn’t an impulsive man. Every word, every action, was calculated. But with Yuuri? All of that planning was always thrown out the window.

And Yuuri’s lips, warm and yielding against his own, were as soft as Viktor remembered.

His cheeks were red when Viktor pulled away, but the shy smile told him that Yuuri hadn’t minded that at all.

 _“Wow,”_ he breathed, eyes sparkling. “I should come support you at your competions more often if I get to be kissed like that.”

“Maybe you should, Mr. Katsuki-Nikiforov,” Viktor whispered, fully knowing that the cameras were close enough to pick that up. His voice dropped in the way Yuuri liked. “Imagine all the kisses I’d give you if you did.”

Then Yuuri buried his head into Viktor’s neck, his face fully aflame, and Viktor dropped a kiss into his hair. “I love you.”

Yuuri’s arms snaked around Viktor’s torso again. “I love you too.”

The remainder of the men’s singles free skate then came to a close with the rest of the skaters after Viktor, and by the end of the night, Viktor was able to reclaim his spot at the top.

“Good work,” Chris murmured, smiling up at him as they stood on the podium. “The power of love was definitely strong tonight.”

“I… I don’t know if I could’ve pulled through if he wasn’t here,” he admitted.

“But he was, and you did.”

Viktor gave a small laugh, looking down at the gold medal resting in his palm.

“And I did.”

 

* * *

   

> **iwritebetterthanispeak** @iwritebetterthanispeak • 10m  
>  DID YOU SEE THAT???? DID. YOU. SEE. THAT.  
>  [video: Viktor Nikiforov kissing supposed rival Yuuri Katsuki right on the lips as his final score is announced. Yakov, his coach, is closing his eyes and rubbing his temples.]
> 
> _4/1/16, 10:21 PM_
> 
> **gia-comeatme** @gia-comeatme • 10m  
>  Replying to @iwritebetterthanispeak  
>  i’m still crying i can’t believe this oh my god oh my gOD how did they hide this the entire time
> 
> **japansace** @japansace • 9m  
>  Replying to @iwritebetterthanispeak and @gia-comeatme  
>  LOOK AT HOW SOFT THEY ARE? HOW DID WE NOT EVEN REALIZE HOW MUCH IN LOVE THEY’RE IN WE ARE F O O L S
> 
> **ladynikiforova** @ladynikiforova • 5m  
>  Replying to @iwritebetterthanispeak  
>  We’re so blessed.

 

* * *

 

“I’ll be okay, Okaa-san,” Yuuri told his mother as they stepped out of their hotel room. “I have all of my medicine, and if I need anything I’ll call you right away. I promise.”

Hiroko nodded, pulling the both of them into a surprisingly strong hug despite her much smaller stature. “Vicchan, thank you for taking care of my son.”

“Of course,” Viktor replied.

The walk to Viktor’s room was quiet, but it was a comfortable one. It was the kind of quiet that settled deep into his heart, warm and reassuring in the fact that there was nothing unnecessary expected. It was also helpful that Yuuri’s hand was once again in his.

“I didn’t realize that your mother came with you,” Viktor said, his voice low.

“Everyone’s a bit worried about me traveling so far on my own,” Yuuri explained. His voice was just as soft as if he, too, feared what would happen if their quiet tranquility was ever broken. “I understand, but I’m going to have to travel again for skating again once my leg fully heals.”

There was something in his voice that Viktor couldn’t quite decipher. “And… and your head?” he asked, hesitant. When Yuuri didn’t answer immediately, Viktor held his hand tight, trying to give him strength.

This talk about their futures was long overdue, but it was one that couldn’t be done over the phone, and it took them the remainder of the walk to the elevator for Yuuri to work up the courage to continue.

“…My headaches are fewer now. I still get dizzy sometimes, but it’s definitely gotten better since I’ve gotten treatment for it.” Yuuri opened his mouth like he was about to keep talking, but then he fell silent again. “I—I’m not sure that I’ll be able to skate this upcoming season,” Yuuri finally admitted, the weight of his words pushing him back into silence.

He looked as if one more question would crack him, but Viktor needed to push so that they could finally talk about this now that they were _together_ and because Yuuri had opened up, even if it was just for a moment.

“Yuuri, love, it’s okay—” Viktor tried to reassure, dropping the bag he was holding to reach for him, but Yuuri shook his head, his emotions beginning to spill over.

“Physical therapy takes _months,_ Vitya,” Yuuri said, his voice shuddering. “I’m not ready to give skating up if they tell me m-my body can’t handle j-jumps anymore. I don’t _want_ to give it up. Who am I without skating?” He scrubbed at his eyes with his other hand, but tears still slipped down and dripped off his chin. Yuuri gave a weak laugh. “I’m sorry, this was supposed to be about supporting _you_. I didn’t—”

Then Viktor hugged him. “Oh, love. With or without skating, you’re still my Yuuri. My Yuuri, who cries when he sees a cute dog. My Yuuri, who never goes out without anything blue. My Yuuri, whose heart is full of so much love. Don’t forget that I’ll always be with you,” Viktor said. “Whatever happens, I’m here.”

They stood there together, in front of the elevators as Yuuri sobbed into Viktor’s shoulder, his tears quickly soaking through the fabric. And Viktor refused to let him go until Yuuri pulled away to wipe at his eyes.

“Thank you,” he said, voice still thick. “I don’t deserve you.”

Viktor softened. “Don’t say that. We have each other because we _chose_ each other. There’s no deserving. Just love.”

A watery smile curved at Yuuri’s lips.

“Let’s go back to the room?” Viktor asked, offering his arm again.

Yuuri nodded. “Yes. Please. I want to cuddle for a while.”

 

* * *

 

The bed was warm, and it was made even warmer by the fact that there was another body tucked under the thick sheets with him. It was still a little early to really go to sleep, but Viktor didn’t think he could with how hyper-aware he was of Yuuri’s presence.

They talked about mundane things for a while, more content with hearing the other’s person’s voice and feeling their presence than anything else.

“We don’t have to hide this anymore, do we,” Yuuri said softly, rubbing his thumb over Viktor’s ring, and Viktor’s breath hitched. They didn’t. They _couldn’t._ Especially not after that kiss on international television.

(Viktor wasn’t sure if he was excited or terrified.)

“Are you upset with me?” Viktor asked. “I _kissed_ you in front of everyone, I—”

_I let you go to the airport on your own._

But Yuuri shook his head, oblivious to the turmoil brewing in Viktor’s mind. “Never.” He smiled ruefully. “After all, I was the one who crashed your competition first. Are you upset with _me?”_

“No!” Viktor blurted, squeezing Yuuri’s hands. “I could never be mad at you for something like this.”

“So there’s your answer.”

Viktor looked into Yuuri’s eyes, seeing himself reflected back just as he was the night before the accident, and then he scooted forward and placed his head right over Yuuri’s heart. It was strong and steady, just like Yuuri himself. It reminded him that this was no dream, and Yuuri was safe and sound in his arms.

“My silly Vitya,” Yuuri whispered, tapping his nose.

Then a thought bubbled to the forefront of Viktor’s mind.

"Hmm, it seems that we still need to exchange rings," Viktor said, pulling Yuuri's hand up to his mouth so he could kiss it. "May I, Mr. Katsuki-Nikiforov?"

Yuuri flushed, but nodded. They sat up, the blankets pooling around their hips, and Yuuri's expression was unbelievably warm. They took their rings off their fingers, watching the gold glint under the lamplight, then Viktor asked, "Yuuri Katsuki, will you marry me again? And love me for as long as we both shall live?"

It was cheesy and sappy and utterly awful, but that was them. Awkward (re)proposals and all.

And Yuuri's smile was watery as Viktor held his hand. "I'll love you for much longer than that. Forever, if I can," he mumbled as Viktor slid the ring over his finger, and _oh,_ that definitely did something to Viktor's heart. How was one person able to have so much love inside him? Viktor was so lucky.

Then Yuuri reached for Viktor’s own hand, holding it like it was something precious. "Vitya, thank you for taking care of me all this time," he said, looking up through his lashes. "Now it's my turn to take care of you too. We'll skate together again someday, I promise."

"I know, love. I know."

They held each other in a tight hug, Viktor being mindful of Yuuri's still-tender bones, and Viktor sighed. "We should probably let your mother know that it's official."

"She already loves you," Yuuri pointed out.  

“You're alike in that aspect.”

"Mmm," Yuuri agreed, snuggling into Viktor’s chest. “I got a lot from her, though it was more obvious when I was younger. My sister—Mari—she's quiet too, but she takes more after our dad than I do.” He traced patterns on Viktor’s palm. “She would like you, I think. You should come to Japan sometime after the season. Meet her. Meet Vicchan.”

Viktor’s breath left him in a _whoosh._ Going to Japan—seeing the place where Yuuri grew up, the place that made Yuuri into the beautiful, loving person that he was today—he couldn’t have wished for anything more.

“As soon as the season ends,” Viktor said, the words coming out in a rush as he pulled back slightly to see Yuuri's face. “You can show me everything. I’ll spend the entire summer there. We can choreograph programs together in Ice Castle!”

Yuuri’s expression, even in the dim lighting, seemed to _glow._ “We’ll have to see what Ciao Ciao says, but I can’t wait. Skating with you… it’s still one of the biggest dreams I’ve ever had.”

“We have to fix that, don’t we,” Viktor hummed. “Can’t call ourselves the biggest power couple in figure skating if we’ve never officially skated together, now can we?”

“You’ve been reading those articles again,” Yuuri scolded.

“How could I not? They’re talking about _us,_ Yuuri.” Then he added slyly, “I’ve never seen a picture of our kisses in such high quality.”

Yuuri smacked him with a pillow. “Vitya!”

“What?” Viktor laughed. “We can create our own right now. A picture just for us. Do you want to?”

“Did you even have to ask?”

So Viktor carefully extracted his arm from under Yuuri's, shivering when his skin came in contact with the cold air, and reached for his phone. He positioned the front of the camera over their faces, adjusting the angle so that the light caught their expressions in the best possible way—

Then Yuuri pecked his cheek, startling Viktor into taking the picture early.

“Just returning the favor from the Kiss and Cry,” Yuuri laughed, winking when Viktor faced him. And if Viktor’s soul left his body because of that wink? No one would ever know.

“Let’s take another one,” Viktor said, his cheeks definitely pink. “I want to keep this picture just for us.”

 

* * *

  

> **v_nikiforov**  
>  _Boston, Massachusetts_
> 
> [image description: A selfie of Viktor Nikiforov and Yuuri Katsuki smiling under the sheets of what looks like a hotel bed, clearly taken by Viktor’s own hand. The lamp light gives them both a warm, honey-like glow, and their bodies are curled toward each other. Something gold glints from their entwined fingers.]
> 
> Liked by **katsuki_y** , **nikiviki** , **phichit_chu** , and **178,921 others**
> 
> **v_nikiforov** Love wins. #viktuuri
> 
> _View all 7,287 comments_
> 
> **katsuki_y** kept it a pretty good secret all this time! #viktuuri
> 
> **nikiviki** @katsuki_y @v_nikiforov Oh my god oh my god you both are my heroes
> 
> **phichit_chu** CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR MARRIAGE!! [“tada” emoji, “tada” emoji, “ring” emoji, “ring” emoji]
> 
> **miraculous-katsukii** @phichit_chu I THOUGHT I WAS THE ONLY ONE WHO NOTICED
> 
> 18 HOURS AGO
> 
>  

* * *

 

_“My name is Viktor Nikiforov, and my fiancé is Yuuri Katsuki, men’s singles figure skater from Japan. Next season will be my last, and after that I'll be taking over as Yuuri's coach. We're still focusing on Yuuri’s rehab and complete recovery, so please continue to support us during that time!”_

 

* * *

 

#### A Selected Transcript and Analysis of the Katsuki-Nikiforov Press Conference

_By: Ollie Pobbles_

If you’re reading this, then you’re either 1) still absolutely _dying_ over the fact that Viktor Nikiforov and Yuuri Katsuki have managed to hide a steady relationship from the media for over _three years,_ or 2) you have no idea what I’m talking about.

(If you’re one of the latter, feel free to check out this insta post and this video. You’ll catch up.)

But first, let’s go back to the beginning—back when we _all_ were convinced that Yuuri and Viktor hated each other.

We couldn’t have been more wrong.

_Read More _

_Replies_

**shemakesmeforget** wait that explains why viktor stayed longer in japan after the nhk trophy during the gpf qualifiers it all makes sENSE NOW

 **randomkeysmash** Oh wow, I’d nearly forgotten about all this. Still can’t believe that NO ONE figured this out beforehand?? Thanks, OP!

 **justalurkerhere** um…. I hate to be /that/ person, but has anyone thought about what that accident’s done to Yuuri’s skating career? I’m happy Yuuri’s happy, but…

 **hashi-cat** no i’ve been wondering the same thing :/ i guess all we have to is to still hope for yuuri’s fast recovery! #hopeforyuuri

3,891 notes

 

* * *

 

Viktor set aside another letter in Yuuri’s pile. “Your fans are sweet.”

“They are,” Yuuri agreed, still looking a little embarrassed at the prospect of even _having_ fans. He tore open another letter. His eyes widened, and he started swatting at Viktor’s pant leg. “Vitya, oh my gosh, the person who sent this is only _six._ ”

“What’s it say?”

Yuuri shifted into VIktor’s lap and leaned against his chest. “Ahh, it’s in Japanese so I’ll have to read it to you. It’s really cute, actually—she says that she saw me skating on TV with her father, and that she’s excited to see me skate again.”

“Oh, the driver who brought me to the hospital to see you has a daughter,” Viktor suddenly remembered, balancing his chin on Yuuri’s shoulder. “Wouldn’t it be funny if that’s the same family?”

Yuuri coughed. “It, um, actually might be? There’s a note at the end for you saying that the father's very glad to have met you, and that everything’s okay. I mean, I’m just paraphrasing, but—”

Tears suddenly gathered in Viktor’s eyes. “O-Oh. I’m glad.”

Yuuri twisted around in Viktor’s lap at the sound of the first sniffle, and his expression softened as he thumbed the droplets away. He pressed a gentle kiss to his mouth. “Everything’s okay, Vitya. I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

“I-I know.”

“I _promise._ ”

Viktor held Yuuri’s hand against his cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've noticed, we have just one more chapter left! It'll be an epilogue tying up some loose ends, and maybe sweetsoft will finally start living up to its name ;)
> 
> Please tell me what you thought!
> 
> [tumblr](https://postingpebbles.tumblr.com) // [twitter](https://twitter.com/postingpebbles)


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